Through a Glass Darkly
by mamazano
Summary: Summary: Set during the Golden Age of Piracy. Jack Sparrow, haunted by demons, is hunting a priceless artifact…. A/N: This is a story of mystery and intrigue, set against the true historical age of pirates. Real people, places and events from history
1. Prologue The Tempest

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Prologue – The Tempest

_And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he  
Was tyrannous and strong:  
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,  
And chased us south along.  
With sloping masts and dipping prow,  
As who pursued with yell and blow  
Still treads the shadow of his foe,  
And forward bends his head,  
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,  
The southward aye we fled._

_Samuel Taylor Coleridge  
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_

xxxx

Jack Sparrow slowly lowered the glass he'd been peering through for nearly a quarter of an hour. High up in the rigging, straddling the foresail yard, he leaned against the mast and studied the long, low undulating swells rolling in from the east, yet once again.

They had set sail, two days earlier, from Tortuga, on a beautiful, calm day with a light breeze that guided the_ Black Pearl_ northward, towards the Florida Straits. That same breeze still blew and the sea was smooth, but he could feel the seas were already beginning to change, the swells starting to make his ship gently dip and roll.

The main cause of Jack's concern, and intent scrutiny though, was a solid, dark, sharp-edged cloud swelling on the eastern horizon ahead. The storm was traveling north, almost due east of the _Pearl_, paralleling her course, but still many miles away. It had been a slow passage, made even more so by the calms preceding the storm. The ship drifted on a mirrored sea, the air heavy and humid, the sun shining brightly through the haze.

"The devil is brewing mischief," muttered Gibbs, as he stood at the rail and stared out at the dark clouds massing on the horizon. Experienced hands amongst the crew were also muttering; they too recognized the tell tale signs of a tropical cyclone brewing.

"Crowd canvas!" Jack barked, as he climbed back down to the main deck. "Hang every rag she'll bear!" then headed towards the helm.

Gibbs followed him, a worried look on his face.

"Cap'n?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the mass of clouds looming.

Jack stood at the wheel, mute, a determined look on his face.

"Beggin' your pardon, Cap'n…but ought we best a-turnin' and make a run for it? We've 'nough time to make a run back 'round Andros Island…we could jib in at Mangrove Cay and weather it out there."

Jack frowned at his quartermaster and said in a peeved voice, "We've lost time…precious time, which cannot be made up. We'll continue on course."

Gibbs gave another worried look over his shoulder and tried again.

"But, Cap'n… wouldn't that be a might risky?'

Jack whirled on him. "_Mister_ Gibbs!" he growled, "As Captain of this vessel, it is not my job to avoid risky situations…but to make sure we get through them. Now I suggest you get about doing your job and let me do mine."

xxxx

The air about them continued to grow heavier and hazier as the day wore on. The crew was on edge, the air static in its stillness. Joshamee Gibbs found himself worrying a bit more than usual, even given the circumstances. It wasn't just the impending storm that had him concerned. An experienced hand before the mast, the weather was always a speculative factor, especially in these long, hot humid dog days of summer. No, that wasn't what was gnawing at the _Black Pearl's_ Quartermaster. What was troubling Gibbs was the unknown factor…the quality of his Captain's sanity.

There once was a time that, no matter how daft he'd thought Jack Sparrow to be, one thing Gibbs could count on was his Captain's sound judgment, when it came to the sea. But since they'd rescued Jack from Bedlam, and the madness that had possessed him, that didn't seem to necessarily hold true. Granted, Jack appeared to have recovered, enough to where AnaMaria had decided to take her leave of the crew once again… judging she'd done all she could for Jack. But there still lingered a bit of feral skittishness in the Captain, a teetering towards the brink…a skating on the edge, a thin line between reality… and something else.

Gibbs shook his head at the thoughts swirling in his brain. He had trusted Jack enough to sign on for this new venture, even if it did sound a bit daft: Sailing off towards an unknown location, to retrieve an unknown treasure…not that unusual, excepting for Jack's insistence of taking along a minimal crew. Now, they were sailing headlong into a hurricane and the Captain's orders had been to hold course and make speed.

The wind freshened midday; by mid-afternoon, an eerie grey canopy enveloped them, visibility becoming so bad, the lanterns were lit. The storm had taken a drastic shift in its path, and was now heading due west, directly towards the _Pearl_ just as she was approaching the narrowest part of the Bahama Channel, with barely 50 miles separating the Bahamian out-islands from the Florida coast. Treacherous waters to be sure.

Jack had retired to his cabin, saying he had "nautical things" to do… making it imperatively clear he did not wish to be disturbed. Gibbs knew something was bothering Jack… no doubt some demon from his past he was runnin' from and was disinclined to discuss. This wasn't the first time Jack had retreated to his cabin under the guise of work and for the most part Gibbs had been just as content to leave him to it. But with the abrupt change in the storm's direction and the wind building, Gibbs decided he'd best risk Jack's wrath and try approaching him again about a change in course. Jack was sitting staring aimlessly at his charts spread out on the large mahogany table when Gibbs entered. Trying to judge his mood, Gibbs hesitated just inside the door.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n," he said, haltingly.

Jack looked up. "Well, out with it!" he said, with no illusion of patience. "You're going to speak your mind, regardless of whether I want to hear it or not."

Jack tempered his statement with a glint of gold, as he grinned at Gibbs.

"You might think me daft, Gibbs…perhaps 'tis true. But I'd not try to press on, at the risk of losing me crew and the _Pearl_ unless I thought we had a chance. You ought to know me better than that."

Gibbs sighed in relief to see the haunted look gone from Jack's eyes.

"Aye, Cap'n," he continued, with more confidence, "The wind's building. We'd best shorten sail, before she's on us good."

Jack glanced out at the darkening skies beyond the stern windows with an experienced eye. "Yet, by doing so, we might not clear the outer islands before she does hit."

Gibbs nodded but added, "True, Cap'n. But if she were to hit sudden like, we be riskin' losing the sails completely."

The weather was confirming what the glass had been telling them for days, there was no longer any ignoring the fact. Jack glanced down at the chart in front of him, his fingers drumming a nervous tattoo on the table and made his decision.

"We'll hold course, Mr. Gibbs, and hope we reach the head of the Bahamas Banks first."

xxxx

It turned out that was not to be the case. As the winds began to howl Jack gave orders to douse canvas and set the storm sails, but the_Pearl_ still had not cleared the northern-most out islands. The crew tied in the reefs of the topgallant, lowered the mainsail, and battened down the hatches for bad weather they now knew was inevitable. As the storm grew in fury, the remaining sails were lowered except the mizzen and foresails to try and hold the bow at a 45 degree angle to the thundering waves now rolling across the channel from the east.

The rain was almost horizontal now, slicing across the deck, stinging like a swarm of bees. Jack slid and climbed his way back to the quarterdeck to help the helmsman hold the wheel through the strong seas, and keep the bow from pointing directly into the wind. The rain was lashing fiercely mixed with spume from the waves as they pounded against the hull. Jack squinted against the lash of the wind, the salty spray stinging his face and eyes, trying to make sure they neither faced the wind and waves too directly not let it come around and hit them broadside.

The waves continued to build, each succeeding one was now taller than the last leaving the ship balanced on top of one foam-crested wave before plunging down into the trough. Visibility was limited to what glimpses were provided from the lightening flashing above them. Suddenly, in one illuminated moment, the rudder swung free in the air as the long bowsprit stabbed into the steep black wall of water ahead. Jack held his breath, and waited… either the bowsprit would snap, and possibly take the bow with it, swamping the ship, or the hull would nose-dive, into the wave, never to rise again. Finally, after a long, heart-stopping moment, the bow popped free and clear, bowsprit intact… the _Pearl_gallantly throwing off the solid weight of the water as she crested the next wave.

The hurricane was upon them now, in full fury, with white-water waves roiling around in all directions. As the highest winds of the storm struck, the fore mast snapped at the topgallant yard, the forecastle becoming a snarled chaos of canvas, wood, tackle and rope. With the canvas dragging in the water like a sea anchor, it threatened to pull the _Pearl_ off her course, making her perilously vulnerable to being broached by the waves. In a frantic scramble, crewmen battled forward and hacked at the ropes with axes, until she was cut free.

The_Pearl_ was at the mercy of the hurricane now, limping along only with her mizzen, crippled but still stalwart, her heart keeping her afloat, as the storm shrieked around her. In spite of the damage the ship struggled on, now nearing the looming coastline of Florida. The mountainous waves, fetching across the broad expanse of ocean to the northeast, caught the ship and soon they were being driven relentlessly towards the treacherous shoals and jagged reefs that fringed the Florida coast.

In the darkness ahead, Jack caught the sound of booming breakers warning him they were nearing the Florida reefs. Struggling across the deck awash with water, he gave orders for the bow anchors to be dropped, in one last desperate effort to keep the _Pearl_ off the crushing reefs beyond. The anchors caught hold allowing the ship to swing her face into the wind. There were no further orders to give, naught else to be done. The wind would have torn the words out of his mouth and flung them away anyway. So instead, Jack worked his way back towards the helm, putting his weight into holding the wheel steady and wondering how long his _Pearl_ could take this, before breaking up.

Suddenly, a large wave struck the stern, and, to the horror of Gibbs and the rest of the crew, when the water receded, their Captain had disappeared into the raging seas below.


	2. Chapter 1 Shipwrecked

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 1 – Shipwrecked

_It is not much that a man can save  
On the sands of life, in the straits of time,  
Who swims in sight of the great third wave  
That never a swimmer shall cross or climb.  
Some waif washed up with the strays and the spars  
That ebb-tide shows to the shore and the stars;  
Weed from the water, grass from a grave,  
A broken blossom, a ruined rhyme. _

_William Falconer, The Shipwreck_

At first he thought he was dead. Then dreaming. But as consciousness returned, and with it the throbbing pain of bruised and battered limbs, Jack Sparrow concluded he was most definitely alive. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face and hear the crash of waves breaking along the shore and the cry of the sea birds. He was alive…but where?

He opened one eye gingerly, his head pounding as if he'd been beaten senseless. Which he had been…his foe being the waves and rocks that lined the coast. He lay in the warm sand, looking up at a blue sky with white clouds scudding across it. The palms above him rustled in the steady breeze still blowing from offshore, the air thick and humid.

Opening his other eye he turned his head and met the silent stare of a young woman…no girl…no woman, judging from the soft curves he could detect beneath her tattered clothes. Large brown eyes set in an oval shaped face of astounding beauty she squatted next to him, solemn and silent.

"Morning, darling," he said amiably, wincing as he tried to sit up.

The girl reached out a hand and shook her head rapidly. Jack gave her a lopsided grin as he gingerly sat up, the world around him listing dangerously to port. He rubbed the large knot on the back of his head, then wiggled and moved all his appendages, amazed they were all intact and in working order.

He smiled again at the girl then went to stand only to find the world swirling around him like the hurricane from the previous night causing him to sit back down abruptly with a thud.

The girl fluttered her hands and came over to him, wiping the sweat that had beaded on his brow with a damp cloth. Her touch was gentle, her hands cool, her lips…

Shaking his head Jack groaned as his head protested the sudden move with fierce pounding. Closing his eyes he waited until the dizziness subsided, then opened them to find a pair of boots standing where the girl had been. Traveling upward Jack found a burly man looming over him. If the girl had been but a dream, this was harsh reality. For despite its tattered appearance, Jack recognized instantly the uniform of the Spanish Royal Navy.

xxxx

**Havana – One week earlier**

Captain-General Don Antonio de Echeverz looked out on Havana's harbor where the_Nuestra Senora del Carmen_ lay at anchor. The General had selected the largest and best of the Galeones fleet as his Capitana. Carrying 72 cannon, the _Carmen_ was of formidable size and a fairly new vessel. The entire Galeones fleet, consisting of privately owned vessels, had been issued contracts by the new king to bring back treasure from South America. Treasure that had been building up the past three years while the War of Spanish Succession raged in Europe.

The trip itself was very speculative, the weather always a big factor this time of year. Don Antonio chuckled to himself. Besides the weather to worry about, it seemed Spain was always at war with someone so the privateers in the Caribbean were also on the prowl.

The Spanish government had devised a plan, seemingly safe from attack by buccaneers and privateers. They would combine the two fleets… the Galeones de Tierra Firme and the Nueva España Flota. These would load up at separate ports – Vera Cruz and Cartagena – and then meet at Havana. From there they would sail for Spain in a giant combined armada with a heavy naval escort, bearing the accumulated wealth for the last three years.

The Galeones Armada had arrived in Havana first, while the Flota, under the command of General Don Juan Esteban de Ubilla, was delayed in Vera Cruz by a severe storm. Don Antonio had waited out the winter months tied to the Havana docks, trading for tobacco until finally Ubilla had arrived in early May. They planned to replenish stores and water and sail a few days after making rendezvous. But because there had been no plate fleet for the last three years, there was a mountain of cargo awaiting shipment in Havana.

The private merchants descended on the fleet like a flock of gulls, exerting every influence available to them…including bribery, to get their cargoes included, in spite of the lack of cargo space. For two months, the fleet was delayed in Havana while officials inventoried and loaded the stored cargo onto the overburdened vessels. The governor of Havana went as far as to charter the French warship, _Grifón,_captained by Antoine Darié, to carry his own cargo.

Don Antonio had heard other rumors though… that Spain's financial situation wasn't the only reason why the King was so desperate for this shipment. The new king apparently was obsessed with two things – religion and sex. Word was told that when his first wife had died the distraught King had to be torn from her deathbed as he continued to try to take pleasure from her… pleasure which he knew he could not have again for a long time without sinning. The chancelleries of Europe wasted no time in a search for a new queen. Seven months later Felipe V chose Elizabeth Farnesse, Duchess of Parma as the new Queen. There was only one problem.

The Duchess finally agreed to go ahead and marry him, but would not consummate the marriage until the Fleet had arrived with her dowry. The Spanish Armada was further delayed by last minute orders from Felipe V for additional gems and jewelry as wedding gifts for the Duchess. Eight chests of gold, silver and jewelry were finally loaded into Ubilla's personal stateroom.

After several months of delays, the combined fleet of this Spanish Armada finally left Havana with calm seas and a steady wind. They were five days out at sea when the wind died and even the sea birds disappeared. The next day the sun never seemed to rise. By noon the ships of the armada were called to close station; visibility had become so bad that Ubilla signaled that each ship's poop lantern was to be lit to guide each other. The wind started picking up, and by nightfall was gusting at 100 knots. The sound of the breakers on the Florida reefs was the only sound heard above the winds. Terrified men tried desperately to free the lifeboats.

Meanwhile, Captain Antoine Darié, believing his warship had nothing to fear of pirates and the English, had separated himself from the rest of the fleet, steering more eastward. This, it turned out, gave the room he needed to ride out the storm. By dawn of the seventh day, his was the only ship left afloat.

xxxx

Jack sat staring up at the man that replaced the pleasant mirage of the girl. The sailor asked him several questions in rapid Spanish, eyeing suspiciously the beads and trinkets in Jack's hair and beard. Jack realizing his predicament tried to cover his bare arm, but not before the soldier standing over him saw the brand.

"Filthy English pirate!" he growled and roughly hauled Jack to his feet, causing the world to spin out of control again. Jack swayed on his feet, one arm clutched not so friendly like by the Spaniard.

The sailor turned and shouted to a group of men on the beach, several of who came over with suspicious hostility on their faces. One of them, apparently their commander, stepped forward and gave Jack a long scrutinizing look.

"How did you get here?" the man questioned him in English.

Jack tried to defuse the situation with a grin.

"Castaway!" he said brightly, waving a hand around. "Washed ashore in the storm."

The commanding officer looked around and demanded, "Is that so. And where is your ship?"

Jack looked out at the water, beyond the pounding surf he could see the remains of a galleon out on the reef, the beach littered with wreckage and bodies. He scanned the sea anxiously but saw no sign of the Pearl. She'd either sank completely or miraculously survived.

Jack shrugged and said, "Sank. Same as yours."

The commanding officer shook his head. "That is not my ship. General Ubilla unfortunately lost his life in the storm along with most of his men. I am Admiral Don Francisco Salmon." He paused and glanced down at Jack's arm. "And you are the infamous pirate, Jack Sparrow."

Jack gave him a surprised look.

Admiral Salmon nodded and said grimly, "Yes, I have heard of your exploits." He gestured to him men. "Seize him, make sure he does not escape and inform his _compañeros_ of our location."

His men dragged Jack off and tied him hand and foot, leaving him lying on the sand, the hot sun beating down on him.

Jack closed his eyes. "Bugger," he muttered.

xxxx

The men did not leave Jack there for long. After a hurried discussion he was once again hauled to his feet and to his surprise released from his bonds. The men then led him down towards the beach, where a grotesque parade of bloated corpses swayed in the ebb and flow of the sea along the water's edge. A white cloud of gulls rose and settled in rhythm with the waves, their raucous cries serenading the dead.

One of the men handed Jack a spade and gestured with his head towards the dead washed ashore. "_Rápidamente!_" Several others were already at work digging a mass grave for those who had perished. Jack joined in, sweat dripping down his face as he labored in the hot sun. A priest was making his way down the shoreline, pausing to say a quick prayer over each of the victims. A group of survivors huddled in the shade of the few trees along the coast, their clothes tattered, many wounded… trying to comprehend the disaster that had befallen them. For those who had miraculously survived, stranded in this inhospitable land without food, water, or much needed medical supplies, the ordeal was just beginning.

The men labored until sunset, stripping the dead of anything valuable or useful before burying them in the shallow grave. The carnage was almost incomprehensible. As the sun's rays were dipping into the west, work was called off and the men returned to the camps strung out along the coastline.

The flickering of fires lined the beach as the survivors huddled around them in groups of tens and twenties. Many of them were women and children, all of them were suffering from exposure to sun and sea, their minds numbed by the catastrophe they had survived. The campsites stretched along the sand dunes and mangroves between the ocean and the inlet to a river. Earlier that day a freshwater well had been located near the narrowest part of the island, a few hundred yards north of the wreck site. Tents were constructed from sails and other items salvaged off the wrecked ship. Food was in short supply, and medical supplies nonexistent. Many would not survive the night.

Jack was kept apart from the main site, guarded by the same men he'd labored next to all day. An uneasy camaraderie had sprung up between captive and captors and outside of the irons placed around Jack's wrists and ankles he was free to move about the camp.

The priest Jack had observed earlier joined the men, settling down next to the fire, his face weary with the weight of the day's gravity.

"A dreadful task, and most sorrowful," Father Cabrera said wearily wiping a hand across his face. He took the cup of wine offered him and drank it gratefully. "A fortunate thing we were able to salvage provisions." The guards murmured their agreement.

Jack sat a ways off, having been given a portion of wine as well as a meager helping of dried fish. It could have been worse…they could have simply shot him dead. For some reason they chose to keep him alive…and Jack was not going to argue the point.

The men conversed amongst themselves in Spanish. Jack understood the language well enough to catch the gist of the conversation. The ship out on the reef was one of 11 ships in the treasure fleet heading for Spain. They would not know for sure until the next day whether the others had survived.

Jack hollowed out a bed for the night in the sand and settled down wearily to sleep. He'd almost dozed off when something the priest said caught his attention. He didn't move but strained to hear what the men were discussing in hushed tones.

"We have not been able to locate her," one of the men who had been helping with the salvage operation said quietly. Father Cabrera shook his head. "She won't survive long alone in this wilderness. Perhaps it is better this way." He gazed wearily into the fire. "I did all I could. It is a matter for the Inquisition now."

One of the men around the fire asked in a hushed tone, "Do you truly believe she is in league with the devil, Father?" The old priest nodded and closed his eyes. "I saw her myself…conjuring before the storm struck. It was surely her doing that doomed us all."

Jack frowned. The storm was nothing less than what was to be expected this time of year. But…if the survivors of this tragedy needed a scapegoat, better this mysterious girl than the pirate. Jack settled down to sleep, wondering if this girl was the one of his dream.


	3. Chapter 2 Unmoored Souls

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 2 – Unmoored Souls

"…_They move in dark, old places of the world:  
__Like mariners, once healthy and clear-eyed,  
__Who, when their ship was holed, could not admit  
Ruin and the necessity of flight,  
But chose instead to ride their cherished wreck  
Down into darkness; there not quite to drown,  
But ever on continue plying sails  
Against the midnight currents of the depths…"_

_William Ashbless… from "The Twelve Hours of the Night"_

xxxx

Over the Caribbean, layers of black clouds poured across the sky. He should have heeded advice and changed course. Now the ship was crashing wildly through the waves, the heavy spray flying out from her plunging bow.

_Too late to turn back now._

Desperately, he shouted orders to shorten sails… his words ripped from his mouth by the shrieking winds, as the ship, barely in control, continued to charge north into the rain squalls and lightening.

The ship was pitching wildly in the mountainous waves, the deck awash with foaming water as he struggled towards his quartermaster, who stood placidly at the rail watching the storm raging beyond. Gasping for breath he slipped and sloshed his way across the deck, and reached out a hand…

_Time's up, Jack._

To his horror his crewman turned to reveal, in the bluish light of the lightening streaked sky, a face of one long drowned…skin dark and rotting, dank hair plastered in strands around his face, staring with black gaping eyes, boney fingers reaching out to grasp him, pulling him down…down into the abyss…the roiling black waters enveloping him…sucking him downward...

The _Pearl_, no longer under his guiding hand, heeled over and lurched hard to port, her shrouds groaning under the pressure of the wind. She staggered, shuddering as a wave took her by the bow and pulled it under, her planking giving a wrenching groan as she slid beneath the surface.

Jack Sparrow woke with a start, sitting upright, sweat pouring down his face. Heart pounding it took him several minutes to realize that he was not being dragged into the abyss, but was in fact on dry land.

_A dream_.

He sat there in the faint grey light of predawn, shivering in spite of the warm humid air.

_Only a dream_.

The voices in his head whispered, at first calming but then accusing.

_Your fault._

He shut his eyes only to quickly reopen them as the image of Gibb's bloated, drowned face swam in front of him.

_All drowned…all dead._

The voices continued, hounding him. He stood up unsteadily, his chains clinking softly. His eyes swept the shore…more dead had washed up in the night…drowned, swollen corpses… they swayed in the gentle pull of the waves, beckoning him to come closer.

"_Go look, Jackie,_" the voices whispered.

"_You gave the orders. They trusted you._"

Jack shook his head, moaning as he tried to blot out the guilt of being the one to survive, afraid to find Gibbs, or Marty or Cotton among the dead littering the shore.

"_Where's your ship…Captain?_"

Jack put his fists to his head, shaking it back and forth, trying to silence the voices… voices that had been hounding him for what seemed an eternity.

"_All dead. All dead." _

Jack Sparrow fell to his knees and let out a howl…plaintive, primal, a tormented soul in pain. A resonating cry… chilling, baleful, full of sorrow.

xxxx

"Has he said anything?"

The two men stood over the prone body of the English pirate, who was awake but non-responsive.

"Not since he woke us with that horrible cry. We have restrained him as a precaution."

Admiral Salmon nodded. He had more pressing worries than the fate of one such as this. A known pirate, he could not be allowed to go free. Still, one could not just take him out like a dog and shoot him. He made his decision.

"I am sending two boats to St. Augustine to alert the governor of our plight. We will send this one... along with the girl."

"So they found her, then."

The Admiral glanced down at the pirate and said grimly, "Yes, but she has refused so far to confess, in spite of Father Cabrera's efforts. Her fate is out of his hands now."

Three damaged lifeboats were repaired at the camp and dispatched for help. Nicolas de India, Ubilla's pilot, sailed to Cuba in the larger launch with 18 men. Father Cabrera and pilot Sebastian Mendez of the _Nuestra Senora del Carmen_ would lead the two smaller boats making the three-day voyage to St. Augustine, located about 120 miles to the north. They would take the two prisoners with them…the notorious pirate would undoubtedly hang; the fate of the girl was in God's hands…in the form of the Holy Inquisition.

It was customary upon arrival in St. Augustine, for shipwreck survivors to be questioned by government officials about their ships and activities along the Florida coast. If their country of origin was at peace with Spain, they generally were treated as well as possible until transport was available to take them home. Shipwrecked enemies of Spain were confined in the Castillo de San Marcos until the governor decided their fate. Pirates, if convicted, would be either executed at St. Augustine, or shipped to Havana for further interrogation.

xxxx

The boats were loaded and readied to leave on the morning tide. They would paddle up the coast, keeping to the intercoastal waterway as much as possible. The journey was fraught with dangers…they would be traveling through an inhospitable land, infested with mosquitoes, rattle snakes, wild animals, and hostile Indians.

The prisoners were loaded into the second boat and sat, shackled together in the stern. The girl was silent, the pirate had begun to rock and hum to himself.

The soldiers delegated to make the trip, their nerves already frayed by the previous days and the fear of what lay ahead did not want to take them, fearful of demonic possession.

"I do not like it. What if the girl is to curse us?"

"If she could conjure the storm, how will we survive?"

"The priest he swears she will repent."

"Of course, he is gaining much pleasure in his attempts. I have heard he has laid the strap to her back many times and yet she never cries out."

"This is a sure sign! _Hija del Diablo_."

They huddled together, crossing themselves and casting fearful glances towards the boat where the girl sat rigidly in the stern of the boat next to the deranged pirate.

One of the bolder ones gave the prisoners a shy, shifty glance.

"Many things could happen...to them...between here and there."

His companions protested fearfully.

"No! She could tear out your tongue and strike you dead!"

"You could end up like the other. See how he acts?"

"He has eyes like the devil…wild."

"We found her crouching over him, like a succubus."

"She will curse us next, just as she cursed him."

The bold one scoffed.

"I have my cross and my faith to protect me. We could feed her to the _Caimán_…"

He glanced over at the silent girl.

"God will surely give us divine blessing for ridding the world of such a demon"

After further discussion they secretly agreed among themselves that there would be an "accident" along the way… after all it would be easy enough to lose the two on such an isolated stretch of coast. The only obstacle was the presence of the priest, but even they had their weaknesses. They would wait for the opportune time and make their move.


	4. Chapter 3 Flotsam and Jetsam

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 3 – Flotsam and Jetsam

We stand on the shore of an ocean,  
crying to the night and the emptiness;  
Sometimes a voice answers out of the darkness.  
But it is a voice of one drowning;  
and in a moment the silence returns.

_Bertrand Russell_

Self-pois'd, each soul its course pursues  
In light or dark, companionless:  
Drop into drop may blend the dews --  
The spirit's law is loneliness.

If seemingly two souls unite,  
'Tis but as joins yon silent mere  
The stream that through it, flashing bright,  
Carries its waters swift and clear.

_ Edward Booth Loughran_

xxxx

_Her lips are fevered heat, devouring in their quest; her hands hot and urgent, reaching beneath his shirt, seeking bare flesh. Her body, writhing with unsated need presses against his, entwining limbs demand fulfillment as fingers deftly free his throbbing manhood from imprisoning cloth._

_Possessed by powers beyond his control he groans in bliss-filled agony as she lowers herself upon him; the heat of her body sends shivers of exquisite torment throughout him. Pain and pleasure became one as she takes every inch of him, coiling around him, constricting as a serpent. _

_Her need is all wanting; her demand for completion beyond all reason. They are now like caimáns… entangled, waters roiling in furious mating…her limbs around his, thick coils that ripple in writhing. _

_She-serpent, she devours her prey, pressing to take in her slickest and deepest reaches the throbbing man beneath her. Both woman and beast…this is her time and this is her season. _

_Yet she is not done; satisfaction eludes her, she stalks nude through the night, seeking conclusion._

_The dawn comes; he smiles quietly and dozes in exhausted repose. She rests as well, coiled at his side. For now she is sated, yet still seeks completion. She rests and she waits, her time will come once again._

xxxx

Jack Sparrow woke to a drenching rain; his mind muddled, it took several minutes for him to remember where he was. Though that did not help much, because where he remembered he was, was not where he was. Which left the question of where was he?

Stumbling to his feet he peered through the driving rain towards the sea, where large waves crashed upon the shore. Along the beach he could make out several objects partially submerged in the swirling foam of the surf. On closer examination they turned out to be half of the escort party that had been transporting him to St. Augustine.

They also turned out to be quite dead. Throats slit, skulls crushed, the attack was vicious and thorough. Their boat lay partially submerged in the surf, all weapons and other objects of value, including provisions were gone.

Jack glanced quickly up and down the beach…there was no sign of the other boat, the other soldiers, their attackers…anyone. There was not a soul in sight. Not even the girl.

xxxx

The surviving party of soldiers reached St. Augustine two days later, with tales of having barely escaped with their lives after having been set upon as they slept. The prisoners they had been transporting were missing and assumed to have been either captured or killed.

They delivered the report from Admiral Salmon about the loss of the Plate Fleet to the horrified governor, Francisco de Corcoles y Martinez who immediately declared martial law in Florida to prevent looting of the treasure. He ordered dispatch boats sent to Cuba and Spain requesting assistance.

Reports of the Plate Fleet disaster soon spread throughout the West Indies, a place already teeming with unemployed sailors and pirates looking for prey. The fact that England and Spain were not at war did not bother the pirates…or other it appeared.

When word reached the New World colonies Governor Spotswood of Virginia went as far as to write to King George I, reporting that… "There is advice of considerable events in these parts that the Spanish Plate Fleet, richly laden, consisting of 11, are, except one, lately cast away in the Gulf of Florida to the southward of St. Augustine. I think it my duty to inform His Majesty of this accident which may be improved to the advantage of His Majesty's subjects by encouraging them to attempt the recovery of some of that immense wealth"

The news, when it reached New Providence, created quite a stir among the pirates that frequented the island. With a treasure fleet wrecked just 50 miles or so away it was difficult to ignore. The taverns were abuzz with the prospects of salvaging some of the treasure despite the fact that King Felipe V had declared all the sunken treasure belonged to Spain and demanded no other country attempt any salvage on the wrecks.

The small group in the corner of the crowded tavern did not join in the speculating and scheming. All the discussion of the wrecked ships brought painful memories to them, having barely survived the storm themselves. The ship they had arrived in sat forlornly in the bay, battered and broken, barely afloat.

The leader of the group shook his head.

"Times like this I find it hard to believe he's truly gone. The world seems a bit less bright without him."

One of his companions echoed his sentiments.

"Aye, Cap'n Jack would 'ave loved a venture like this 'ne. All that gold for the takin'."

The others murmured their agreement.

"Aye, that he would."

They raised their glasses in a toast.

"To Jack Sparrow."

"A Gentleman of Fortune, 'e was."

"A good man."

"Never be another'n like Cap'n Jack."

They drank in silence, alone with their memories.

xxxx

Swirling images danced before him.

_The cry of death and vengeance descending on the camp. The moans of pleasure escaping from his lips. The screams of men as they fell, their blood spilling red against the white sands. The writhing of naked flesh devouring him. The sheets of rain cold upon his face. The heat of her body, enveloping him... capturing his explosion of seed in searing ecstasy. _

Jack stood, alone on the shore…the rain tapering off to a fine mist as the waves receded, taking the dead with them and realized he was totally alone.

Alone. Even the voices in his head had deserted him.

xxxx

The ancient crone came for the girl in her hideous form and swept her charge back into the sea.

"You laid with the human."

The girl hung her head, having no answer to satisfy the old woman.

"You realize the consequences of your act. No longer will you be welcome in this world."

She nodded, desire spent in the harsh light of dawn.

"Go, I can no longer protect you."

The crone, with a sweep of her fins, dove into the waves, leaving the girl standing on the lonely stretch of beach.


	5. Chapter 4 Nocturnal Emissions

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 4 – Nocturnal Emissions

She sinks into her spell: and when full soon  
Her lips move and she soars into her song,  
What creatures of the midmost main shall throng  
In furrowed surf-clouds to the summoning rune:  
Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry,  
And up her rock, bare-breasted, comes to die...

_ Dante Gabriel Rossetti_

xxxx

Father Cabrera tossed and turned in his narrow cot, sweating profusely in the sultry summer heat. The moon had risen over the sea, casting a silvery sheen across the waves as they lapped gently against the shore. Since arriving at St. Augustine, the priest had been subjected to nightly visits of a carnal nature. Unable to combat these nocturnal invasions, he had, to his horror and intense shame, come to welcome them.

As the usual hour approached, the monk prepared for her presence, waiting breathlessly for her suffocating embrace. To his intense disappointment, however, she did not appear; not that night, nor the ones to follow. Abandoned, shaken with guilt and unrequited lust, the cleric became wan and withdrawn, withering away before the eyes of his fellow monks.

He was found two weeks to the day of his arrival, prostrate and cold, upon the chapel floor, his sightless eyes transfixed on the image of the Virgin Mary. The official cause of death was declared to be exhaustion, coupled with brain fever.

The only clue regarding what else might have been troubling the frail monk was a piece of paper found clutched in his hand. Written in Latin, it was a page torn from a book… Thomas Aquinas' _Summa Theologia_, warning of the dangers of succubi.

xxxx

In the long, hot summer days, the island of New Providence was a bevy of activity. With their many inlets and isolated islands, the Caribbean pirates found the Bahamas an ideal place to shelter and conceal their vessels, when a rest was needed from ambushing unsuspecting ships. There was plenty of wood and fresh water on the islands, sandy beaches for camping out, plentiful food, suitable places for careening their ships to clean them of barnacles and weeds, and best of all, tricky channels that allowed them to elude the larger ships so popular with merchants.

Traditionally, the local pirates would careen their larger vessels in the spring, choosing to use the summer months to ply their trade further north, where the governors of the English colonies welcomed their cut-rate goods, and the prosperity they brought. The Caribbean summer was a steamy breeding ground of yellow fever and other maladies, not to mention the frequent hurricanes that wrought havoc along the shores.

This summer, however, found a larger number than usual of pirates, and unemployed sailors, hanging around, mostly due to the fact that one of the largest and richest treasure fleets had conveniently wrecked itself just a short distance across the Bahama Channel.

Amidst the many sloops, schooners and brigantines crowding the New Providence harbor were several three-masted ships, the most notable of these being the battered remains of the infamous _Black Pearl_. She had limped into port on jury-rigged sails soon after the hurricane, with only her mizzenmast intact, sails shredded and masts shattered. She now sat forlornly, listing to port, a disconsolate shadow of her former splendor.

"So it's true then?"

Joshamee Gibbs, former quartermaster of the now derelict _Pearl,_ turned in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Frank Davies! Ye old scalawag! Haven't seen ye in ages! I'd heard ye'd danced the yardarm jig." Gibbs heartily shook his friend's hand, sobering as he turned back to look at the _Pearl_. "Aye, 'tis the awful truth. Rogue wave rose up, like it were a'lookin' fer ol' Jack and washed him clean off the _Pearl_."

The other pirate shook his head and sighed.

"Never thought I'd see the day. Lad 'peared to lead a charmed life." Frank rubbed a hand wearily through his grey streaked hair and nodded his head in the direction of the bay.

"What's to become of the _Pearl _now?"

Gibbs looked sadly out at the black ship sulking in the water. It seemed the spirit had gone out of her after they'd lost her captain.

"Can't abide seein' her under another's command. She'd sail 'er heart out for Jack, but probably no'ne else." Gibbs narrowed one eye as he considered. "Might scuttle her; might just let her live out her days here, 'til the seas claims her. Wher'er Jack be, he'll be needin' a ship."

Gibbs gave the _Pearl_ another long look, feeling a bit like she looked: Shattered, abandoned, adrift. He turned, shoulders slumped, to head back up the beach, his companion falling in alongside him.

"So, what brings you to New Providence, Frank?

Frank Davies chuckled and waved his hand in the direction of the many camps dotting the sandy beach.

"Same as all the rest of these gents. Easy pickin's on the reefs, over yonder; there for the takin' and a lot less risky. Looking for a few good hands, if you're interested."

Gibbs shook his head, resignedly.

"I can recommend a few of the crew. Me, I'm a thinkin' of stayin' on dry land for a spell."

The other man nodded. He'd known both Gibbs and Sparrow for a number of years. The loss of his Captain must have come as a real blow to Gibbs, not that Davies wasn't feeling an odd emptiness inside, as well.

A pirate's life was one of constant danger. It was not uncommon to hear of a former mate meeting an untimely end. Yet, Jack Sparrow had always managed to keep one step ahead; always seemed able to run between the raindrops.

Frank Davies wasn't quite ready to concede Jack was really gone. _Habeas corpus_. He'd believe it, when he saw it with his own eyes.

xxxx

Jack Sparrow wasn't ready to concede, either, in spite of the godforsaken pit of land he now found himself on.

"Least ways, I didn't have to watch that bloody Barbossa sailin' off with me ship, again."

He kicked through the skeletal remains of the camp, picking up and throwing down any number of semi-useful items, his mind already a whirl of plans.

"Not so bad."

He managed to salvage the boat and rig a makeshift sail from the canvas of the tents left behind. He stripped the dead soldiers of their uniforms and belts, but was disinclined to go to through the unpleasantries and effort of burying them.

"Turn about's fair play," he qualified aloud. "Giving you all the same path to your maker as you were about to give me." He stood back with his hands on his hips, sweating heavily, the stench of their bodies still hanging in his nose. He jabbed a finger skyward. "Heaven's that way! Good luck in your journeys."

Remorse never being one of his burdens, without a second look or thought, Jack swaggered down the beach to his new command.

The girl was another matter, all together. Haunted him, she did, coming nightly in his dreams, leaving him shaking and in a cold-sweat, so real and yet--not. Every morning, he woke drained and weak, his goods aching fit to explode, to where, on more than one occasion, he'd been forced to avail himself upon his own palm.

The fact of those sorts of dreams weren't unusual—hell, he'd been havin' 'em since he was thirteen; woke up many a morning with a cockstand. What man didn't? And, over the years, any number of lovelies had come to visit his nights. It was the nature of these visits—hauntings—that disturbed him. And the girl…

For over a week now, he'd been making his way south along the coast. Wary of attack or discovery, he kept to the intercoastal waters, using the currents and tides to his advantage, hugging the shallows and allowing the high dunes to shield him from the view of passing ships, his hands becoming raw and blistered from the constant handling of the sails and tiller. He subsisted on berries and the occasional fish or crab, thankful for the abundance of fresh water available at the small springs dotting the coast.

And yet, the long days were taking their toll, the nights even more. Each morning, he rose more haggard than the day before. By the end of the second week, Jack Sparrow was a gaunt shadow of his former self.

xxxx

The moon rose over the sea, its silvery light fracturing the water into a million glittering gems. The wind freshened, blowing steadily from offshore, at odds to its normal course. Colors washed out to shades of grey in the moonlight, the shadows inky black in contrast to the white sands of shore.

The girl knelt at the water's edge, the incoming wash of the waves swirling around her bare legs, the gleaming foam inching higher with each successive swell. She arched her back, exposing her face to the moonlight streaming downward, and outstretched her arms as she opened her mouth in silent song.

A darker shadow slithered along the shore towards the unsuspecting girl, silently sliding through the sand and surf then rose up, a black shadow. Enveloping the girl in a smothering embrace, they become one, stealing shape and substance, siphoning spirit and soul.

The girl-shape still knelt in the surf, and raised her arms in triumph, eyes gleaming green in the moon's rays. This was her time, her season. She rose and stalked nude through the night, seeking completion.

xxxx

Jack beached the small boat and headed for shelter and cover, under a stand of scrub oaks to make camp for the night. By his reckoning he was far enough south to be within a day's journey from the outermost islands of the Bahamas. Weak and weary, he decided to further scout the area in the morning; if suitable he'd stay a spell, lay low and keep a weather eye for passing ships.

The evening breeze blew sufficiently to dissipate the smoke, so he made a small fire to cook the fish he had earlier caught while making way that day then hollowed a bed in the sand and settled down for the night, tired and drained. But sleep was no longer necessarily something to look forward to. And yet, nodding off at the helm, as he nearly had that day, wasn't advisable either.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," he grumbled." Bloody succubus, she is. Blasted wench won't leave me in peace; fancies me too much."

His nights were haunted by images, so real at times he could physically touch them. Always, they started the same: Asleep, he would sense her presence before he saw her, would feel her touch, her weight as she lay across him, her naked breasts swollen, inviting him to taste.

With his head pillowed in his hand, Jack laid in the flickering light of the fire. A faint smile growing, he idly slipped the other hand into his breeches, absentmindedly stroking his already aroused cock, as he envisioned the girl's face, so hauntingly beautiful, so melancholy and innocent. He ached for her touch, the feel of her lips, the heat of her body--

His eyes closed, he drifted off to sleep. His hand was still now, as he was pulled deeper into that shadowed place where dreams abide.

xxxx

_She comes to him in his dreams, once more, yet this time he wakes to her presence, a weight bearing down on his chest. Unable to move, he waits in breathless anticipation. She is astride him, her mouth descending on his, cruel and thorough. She bares her teeth and plunges her tongue deep into his mouth, plundering with reckless abandon. _

_Ravenous and greedy, she moves downward, her mouth seeking, tongue slithering across his chest, his belly clenching tight as she moves further down, along the soft trail of hair and beyond in her quest. She finds what she seeks, slick and smooth. She slips her mouth around his swollen cock, sucking, teeth scraping along its length, as he arches his back, drawing a hissing breath through clenched teeth as pain and pleasure blur._

_She senses his need for release and slows, now softly suckling, swirling her tongue around his sensitive tip, urging him towards completion. Sensing the time is right, she straddles him once again, swollen and ripe, ready to harvest._

_He's impales her deep within, her hips moving in rapid reciprocation. He strains, muscles rippling in fierce, furious fevers of fornication. In a gluttonous rage, she rejoices at his hard thrusts, sliding slick and slippery, their bodies glowing wet in licentiousness heat._

_He cries out as he releases, she tightens and squeezes his seed from his burning member, withdrawing as he collapses spent and sated._

_She slips away silently, down to the shore, dropping once more onto her knees in the foaming shoals. Spreading her legs wide she shares his seed with the sea, spilling it outward to inseminate those waiting eagerly below the surface. _

_Insatiable still, she tends her own burning needs there in the surf, her fingers seeking hot and urgently until she too arches her back in splendid satisfaction._


	6. Chapter 5 Renewed Acquaintances

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 5 – Renewed Acquaintances

All night the thirsty beach has listening lain  
With patience dumb,  
Counting the slow, said moments of her pain;  
Now morn has come,  
And with the morn the punctual tide again.

_Susan Coolidge_

xxxx

The urgent call of nature woke Jack from his fitful slumber, the first pink glow of sunrise lighting his way as he staggered towards the brush line to find relief.

"Ow! Blimey! Blood hell!"

He peered bleary-eyed down at his hand and his flaccid member, red and raw, and burning like the devil. He gingerly finished his business through clenched teeth, hissing as he tucked his stinging goods carefully away.

"Damn vampire, the bloody wench," he groused, duck-walking back to his campsite, wincing at the roughness of his breeches on his tender flesh.

Jack poked at the now cold fire, his muddled mind wondering how he had managed to end up in this condition without finding the cause of said condition.

"Well, I bloody hell didn't bend down and bite meself!" He cautiously took another look inside his breeches at his aching cock, shaking his head morosely.

"Won't be any bloody good for a week, not that I've gots me anywheres to stick the bloody thing."

It was bad enough when the girl was just haunting him. Now she was inflicting grievous injuries without so much as a by your leave.

Still grumbling and muttering, Jack stiffly walked down the shoreline, scouting a source of fresh water to where he could make camp. Between the burning sun and other sundries, fatigue was setting in and Jack was ready to lay low for a spell.

An object caught his eye near the tide line, an oddity, at odds with its surroundings, black where there should be white, white where there should be brown; an anomaly that bore further scrutiny. He approached cautiously, his curiosity turning to surprise as he recognized a shape most definitely female lying in a small tidal pool. Black hair splayed out in seaweed-like tresses across the sand, the girl lay naked, curled in a fetal position, her skin wan and bluish in hue.

At first, he thought her dead, until he saw the faint rise and fall of her ribs. In the early light of morning, the girl looked younger, much more frail and innocent than the tempting siren of his dreams.

"Can't be her…can it?"

He reached down and touched her shoulder; her skin was cold.

"Not good," was his first reaction.

His next reaction was more physical as he studied her form: Creamy white skin, delicate features, small, pert breasts. Young, she was, yet with enough curve to make a man want to skim said curves with his hand…

He felt his body responding, a painful reminder of the previous night's revelries.

"Belay that, lads, a bit premature we are," he muttered, reaching down a checking hand on the front of his breeches. "Bugger, can't very well just leave her lying there in the water. Catch her death, she would."

Inwardly groaning, he scooped her up and carried her back to the camp, where he wrapped her in his coat and set about to lighting a fire.

"_What now, Jackie?"_ said a familiar voice in his ear.

"Huh? Whut?" Jack looked around and said peevishly, "Go away!"

"_Odd, isn't it?" _ the other voice chimed in.

"_Curious are you not? How she got here?"_

"Why, she just…er, just…" Jack puzzled, giving the silent girl another glance.

"_Washed up with the tide?" _

Jack brightened and raised a finger. "Ah, yes." Then his face fell as reality occurred to him. "Not possible."

"_Not probable."_

"I'm sure she has a logical explanation." He brushed off his annoying selves and, with another glance at the girl's silent figure, left the camp to gather more wood.

When he returned not much later, the girl was gone…with his coat.

xxxx

The images swirled within the smoky recesses of the water; one after another, they tumbled in rapid succession.

_A dark haired figure bathed in rain-drenched light, water-diamonds gemming her night-black hair, her iridescent gown clinging to every curve, shimmering and sheer, clothed in a rainbow she approached._

_Darkness swirled, with thunderous clouds._

_From her hand, the wrathful figure sent forth a snake of black diamonds, with a blood-red head. It touched the girl's eyes, a spark of fire darting from the serpent's rapid tongue into each eye, sinking deeper and deeper._

_Thunder clapped and lightening accompanied the shrieking laughter, the winds blowing fierce, the waves frothing white upon the sea._

_A ship appeared, a ship with black sails._

"Conjuring up another storm is it?"

The girl jerked from the pool of water she'd been gazing into. Startled, she rose and turned to flee but was stopped by a strong hand on her wrist.

"Not so fast, darling. I'd say you have a bit of explaining to give ol' Jack."

Jack held fast the frightened girl, as she cowered, trembling before him as if expecting him to strike her. Surprised at the intensity of her emotion, he let go and took two steps back, raising his hands in supplication.

"Hold up, missy. No one's going t' hurt you. Thought we might just introduce each other proper, seeing how we'd already made acquaintances in… er, _other ways_, in a manner of speaking."

She hesitated, taking her own steps back as she clutched his coat around her, her big dark eyes watching him warily.

She's gorgeous, Jack found himself thinking. A sight for sore eyes to be sure; a definite improvement on the scenery, she was. Not quite sure how she got here though. And seems downright frightened …but, of what?

_Probably you, Jackie._

Jack shrugged off the voice irritably.

That's ridiculous! I haven't laid a finger on the girl. If one of us is to be frightened it ought t' be me. 'Bout chewed me cutlass clean off!

"Who asked you, anyways?" he added aloud, glaring around him, causing the girl to shrink further away.

_You're frightening her now, aren't you?_

_Might want to say something to calm her down 'fore she makes a run for it._

Say something! Say something…but what?

He walked up to the girl and gave her his winningest smile and said cheerfully, "Why don't you and me have a sit down over by the fire and get to know each other better, eh?"

Her eyes flashed in alarm.

Jack winced. That didn't help matters any. Fumbling for words he finally stuck his hand out and said, "Captain Jack Sparrow at your service. And you are…?"

The girl shook her head and remained silent, much to his annoyance. The least she could do was tell him her name.

"_Perhaps she doesn't understand you."_

Jack cocked his head and gave the girl a long look. Perhaps. Maybe she was Spanish. Worth a try.

"¿Cuál es su nombre?"

She just stared at him. French?

"Quel est votre nom?"

Same. Portuguese?

"Qual é o seu nome?"

Nothing. Frustration growing, he tried some of the local dialects.

"Wat is uw naam?"

"Kisa ou noman?"

Still nothing. The girl just stood there, arms wrapped around herself, looking lost and infinitely sad.

"Fine!" he declared, throwing his hand up in exasperation. "I'll be over there if you decide to change yer mind." He turned and stomped back towards the camp. "And if you decide to disappear again, please leave me coat," he shouted over his shoulder.

xxxx

As the sun sank slowly into the sea, the shoreline of New Providence's harbor was dotted with cooking fires. Gibbs stood alone at the edge of the bay, staring at the _Black Pearl_ where she listed sadly at anchor. The slight offshore breeze fluttered the tattered remains of her sails. The last golden rays of the sun reflecting off her stern windows gave the lonely ship a bit of warmth. Melancholia crept up and settled on Gibbs' shoulders, as he recalled the many adventures he'd shared with the Captain of the_Pearl_.

"Aye, by all that is great and good, them was the days, a fair wind, a quick eye an' no favour. Aye, them was the days," he mused, feeling as careworn as the _Pearl_.

The rest of the _Pearl's_ crew had disappeared among the crews that were scattered along the shore, renewing old acquaintances and striking up new ones. A pirate's life it were, and they all knew the Code: Thems that fell behind, were left behind. But, it still didn't feel right to have Jack gone.

Gibbs gave the now calm seas beyond the bar another look.

"The world needs ye back something awful, Jack," he murmured in heartfelt sentiment. "If 'n yer out there and can hear, I'll be watching o'er the _Pearl_ for ye."

Turning to go Gibbs found Frank Davies waiting, leaning against a tree, smoking his pipe with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Thought I'd find ye here," Davies said, tapping the ash out of his pipe and stowing it in his coat pocket. "Got me a proposition for ye, Josh…if ye'll hear me out."

Gibbs fell in beside his friend as they weaved their way through the beaches' many camps, arriving to where the Davies' crew had settled for the night. Around the various campfires, the men amused themselves by telling stories, each trying to outdo the other with a wilder version. Several of them began to play a lilting jig on their beat up instruments – squeeze box, fiddle, mandolin – giving the gathering a festive air. The stars began to come out, as the sun slipped beneath the waves, leaving only a pink tinge to reflect off the scattered clouds. A pleasant breeze blew in from offshore, cooling the sultry air.

The appetizing aroma of bouillabaisse drifted down the beach luring in men from the other camps, offering their own ingredients to the mix as they settled around the fire. Once darkness fell, the men were joined by an assortment of women who didn't bother with the pretense of hiding their purpose, which was to give favor to the eager men—for a price. Several pairs disappeared into the darkness, their hunger more carnal in nature. The others amused themselves with indiscreet fondling and ribald stories.

Davies shuffled off, soon to return with a bottle of rum in each hand. He handed one to Gibbs then flopped down in the sand, his back resting against a fallen tree. Gibbs made himself comfortable as well, and took a long swallow of rum, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he held up the bottle to the night.

"To Jack Sparrow, where're ye be. Good luck t'ye and a fair wind, says I."

Davies took a solemn drink too, then set the bottle down in the sand. "How you so sure that ol' Jack didn't wash up on a beach o'er there in Florida?"

Gibbs sat up straighter and blinked. "It were stormin' awful fierce. T'wouldn't be possible for a man to survive them seas, mark my words."

Davies chuckled. "Ah, but many did. Word is o'er a thousand of them damn Spaniards crawled onto the beaches all long the coast. What's to say one of them crawlers weren't Sparrow?"

Gibbs sighed. "If I were thinkin' there be a chance the Cap'n were alive, I'd be the first to be looking for 'em."

Davies smiled triumphantly. "Exactly!"

He stood up and began to pace around a bit, pondering something before turning to Gibbs.

"That be my proposition to ye. I'm thinking of takin' the _Tess_ out on the morning tide, with just a short crew. She's fast and low, ought t' be able to slip, in close like, for a look 'round."

Gibbs eyes grew round with the anticipation. Then he slumped. "Fool's errand, Frank," he said in resignation. "There be a hundred miles of coast, not to mention the reefs. Bound to be some Spanish warship about as well, guarding the salvage operations."

"Aye, I know that," Davies agreed eagerly. "And plenty of hiding places for a sloop as well. If Jack be alive, he'll be needin' a friendly face 'bout now. And ye'll have a fair share of any treasure we might be salvagin' as we search. What say you?"

Gibbs' decision was a brief one; the need to do something had been gnawing at his innards for weeks. He held out his hand and said with enthusiasm. "Aye, Cap'n Davies. We have an accord."

xxxx

Jack spent most of the day fretting. The girl still hadn't said a word. True enough, once she was sure he wasn't going to harm her, she'd settled back down onto the sand, huddled with arms around her knees, staring off at the sea.

Frustrated, his trust in her not coming any easier, he covered his nervousness with chatter.

"Are you always so taciturn? Don't believe I've ever met me a woman who could hold her tongue. My considerable experience, with the female creature, is that one of such persuasion will prattle on about anything. Seems they just like hearing the sound of their own voices, jaws flapping incessantly. Why, I once knew a woman that went on for over an hour expounding on the subject of thread! A more_un_-fascinating subject I have yet to find. And buttons! Another favorite. Though, I suppose you wouldn't be going on about buttons, since you haven't a stitch, to stitch one onto. Speaking of which, we need to be finding you something else to be wearing other than ol' Jack's coat, what with this heat and humidity."

He tipped his head, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "'Course, you could just wear what I found you in, 'tis not like I haven't already been acquainted with your parts. And those are some mighty fine female parts you have. Makes me male parts perk right up, if you get my drift. Only the cockerel's a bit sore, after last night's tumble."

He paused, gingerly adjusting those very parts, and considered the situation more philosophically.

"Seems we've gotten it a bit backwards. I usually pride meself on getting to know a lass first—at least her name, anyway…mostly…sometimes…" His voice trailed as he drifted off, lost in thought for a moment.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jack added more cheerfully, "Anyways, seein's how the ice has been broken—most definitely broken and with considerable verve I might add – giving a name would seem a simple, reasonable thing."

He gave her an expectant look, but she only averted her eyes from his.

"Leaving me here in a bit of a soliloquy, aren't you? Taking this dark, mysterious type a bit far, I'd say."

After several more minutes of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the waves lapping gently on the sands and the palms rustling in the breeze, he tried again.

"Bloody hell! I'm beginning to tire of me own voice. Feel free to jump in here, anytime!"

He paced a circle around her in the sand, waiting for her to respond. Finally, losing his patience, he whirled around. "Are you even understanding a word I say?" he exclaimed loudly, waving his arms in emphasis. "There's a great serpent just over there waiting to devour you!" He slumped when she only drew back, startled by his volume." Ah, I thought not. Hmm, certainly puts charm and persuasion under a bit of duress."

Suddenly, he had an idea and squatted down next to her.

"_Datiao_," he said, reassuring.

Startled the girl's eyes lit up, transforming her into a radiant beauty.

"_Taiuaitiao_?" he went on, encouraged, smiling.

He stood up and held out his hand. "_Guarico_."

She hesitated, but then stood and allowed him to lead her back to the campsite.

"_Well, this is encouraging. Finally found me a language she knows, and I'm about to run out of knowing much more meself. Don't suppose she'd warm to me asking how much for a tot of rum or a tumble, but it's a start."_

He settled her next to the fire and set about preparing some fish he'd snared earlier, still making futile attempts at conversation. Perhaps a bite to eat might help her warm up to him, though that hadn't seemed a problem the night before. Warm! Bloody hell, she'd been on fire, lusting after him. Now he could barely get her to smile.

He turned to find her watching him curiously. Offering an encouraging smile, one of those he had known to always work, he squatted down next to her.

"Well now, I just can't keep referring to you as "you". If you won't share your name, then I'll just have to name you meself."

"But what? _Colibri? Bijirita? Bajacu' ?"_

The girl was smiling now, her eyes dancing with amusement. Encouraged, Jack scrounged for more words he had learned so many years ago.

"_Batata_!" The girl giggled and shook her head.

"No?" Jack cocked his head in an engaging gesture, not exactly sure what he'd just said, but thankful she found it humorous, at least.

"_Boniata_…_Hutia_, no… _Mime_?"

The girl smiled. Relaxing finally, she shook her head playfully, her black hair swirling around her shoulders, mesmerizing him with her movements. His mind wandered back to the night before, a great discomfort growing, in more ways than one.

Clearing his throat, he looked away and took a couple of deep breaths. She was beginning to trust him, finally. Didn't want to blow it by doing something daft.

He removed the fish from the fire and held it out to her with an encouraging nod.

"_Kai_?"

She nodded and took the offering, nibbling at first but then eagerly devouring as if she were starved. Well, it was a start at least.

xxxx

Later that evening Jack sat with his back propped against a tree, watching through the flames of their small campfire as the girl slept, feeling a remote sense of satisfaction.

She had smiled! He had actually been able to make her smile…several times.

"God knows why it had been so bloody difficult," he grumbled to himself. "Never had to work so hard in me life, just for a bit of a smile…just for some sort of verification of me own existence, if nothing else. Near talked meself as raw as me goods, just trying to get some sort of response. She kept staring, like I wasn't there, didn't exist…"

A motion caught his eye and he looked up as several versions of himself stepped into the perimeter of the firelight.

He frowned, watching them warily as they neared, seating themselves comfortably around the fire. "Where did you come from?" he demanded.

_We've been right here all along, Jackie._

_You're never alone, you know that._

_Thought you could use some help._

Jack's eyes darted around the fire, as the last emerged from the shadows. "There's usually more of you. Where are the rest?"

The nearest one shrugged. _We figured this was as many as you could manage just now. You look tired, lad._

"Haven't been sleeping real well, lately," he reluctantly admitted. "Truth be told, wake up feeling worse than when I laid me head down."

_Because of her?_

"Yes…no…maybe…" Jack rubbed his face in his hands. "Difficult to say."

_How do you know she's even here?_

Jack peeked dubiously between his fingers. "Because I've bloody well been talking a blue-streak to her all day. I fed her fish…"

_She doesn't exist._

_How did she get here? Can't possibly be real._

"She's real all right! Just look at…" He hesitated, looking down at his crotch then quickly dismissed the idea. "Well, take me word for it. I've living proof she exists."

_If you're so sure, then why doesn't she speak?_

"She can't…or won't…or some such something," Jack explained with a dismissive wave.

_You look bloody awful._

"I feel bloody awful."

_Must be the sun…and the heat…_

_Never bothered you before. You're slipping._

_Just like before Remember?_

"That's all behind me," Jack countered firmly, clutching a fist. "Right as rain, I am."

_She's not real. She couldn't have possibly just washed up on the beach._

_Are you even sure you washed up on the beach?_

_Did that storm really happen?_

"You all seem to have all the bloody answers, you tell me!"

_Sleep, Jackie, you need it._

He peered blearily at the girl's sleeping form, distorted and wavering through the flames, making her whole being seem eerily elusive, appearing and disappearing before his very eyes.

"Can't sleep," he murmured, his eyelids growing heavier. "Have to watch…"

_Watch what?_

"Guard me life, or rather more precious than me life." His brows furrowed as he struggled with his thoughts. "Wake up a eunuch, I could, one more night like that last."

_She was here…with you?_

_Now, she's gone…never here…_

_She wants you…now she doesn't…_

_Yes, no._

_On, off._

_Here, there._

_Up is down…down is up…_

Jack's eyes closed in spite of his efforts and he slept.


	7. Chapter 6 Brilliant Madness

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 6 – Brilliant Madness

Out of the purple drifts,  
From the shadow sea of night,  
On tides of musk a moth uplifts  
Its weary wings of white.

Is it a dream or ghost  
Of a dream that comes to me,  
Here in the twilight on the coast,  
Blue cinctured by the sea?

Fashioned of foam and froth --  
And the dream is ended soon,  
And lo, whence came the moon-white moth  
Comes now the moth-white moon!

_Frank Sherman_

xxxx

The dawn came, punctual, disregarding all in its singular journey, signaling a new day. For some, it heralded a new beginning, others a coda to a tale twice told. Rosy fingers stretched across the skies, Eos awakening in her splendor.

Jack Sparrow woke reluctantly from his slumbers, resisting the slow ascent into the conscious world around him. His sleep had been punctuated once more by dreams of the girl, not as sensual but just as haunting – vague images that swirled around him mist-like, fleeting as wil-o'-wisps in the night.

Opening his eyes, he stretched and yawned, scratching his belly absentmindedly as he glanced over towards the fire, long cold. He sat up abruptly, wondering if it had all been a dream. For the girl was gone, all that remained was his coat, neatly folded, and a small indentation in the sand where she had lain.

xxxx

The men weighed anchor in the grey light preceding the dawn. Captain Davies had selected five able hands, all trustworthy men known for their discretion. Joshamee Gibbs rounded out the crew of the sloop,_Contessa_, a single -masted vessel rigged with a main sail and jib. Fast, light and agile, the sloop was an ideal pirate vessel; shallow on the draft she could navigate the coastal waters, out of reach of larger navy ships and could sail well into the wind, allowing them to catch slow -moving prizes and outrun pursuers. Outfitted with eight small cannon and six swivel guns, her maneuverability to avoid broadsides made her a dangerous foe against the more heavily -gunned, larger ships.

Davies sent one man aloft as lookout, and took the helm as the remaining crew members hoisted the sails. As they made their way across the bar towards the open sea, Gibbs stood pensively at the rail, watching across the crystal blue water, as the jagged green and purple mound that was New Providence recede behind them. _A fool's errand_, he'd told Davies, but one that had to be made. Gibbs knew he could never rest easy, until he knew, for a fact, that Jack Sparrow was truly lost.

xxxx

Jack found the girl at the water's edge, sitting naked, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared out to sea, the waves gently swirling around her as they kissed the sandy shore. She did not acknowledge his presence, even after he squatted down next to her, only continued her lonely vigil, eyes full of unspoken sorrows.

"Gave me quite a turn you did, disappearing like that," Jack said, lightly. His eyes darted up and down the shore, scanning the horizon. "Why do I feel like I've done this before? Déjà vu, I believe is how the French call it; intemperate lot they are, but good at the turn of a phrase." In spite of doing his best to ignore her, his gaze lingered on the shapely curve of her back and nearly waist length, jet -black hair spilling over her shoulders. Resisting the urge to follow those curves with his hand, he rose with a groan and went to find something in which to clothe the girl before he succumbed to temptation.

"Time enough later for that," he muttered, as he rummaged around in the bottom of the boat, where he'd stashed some items from the Spanish camp. He found a lightweight shirt that would serve to cover up some of that tempting flesh and returned to where the girl sat motionless, as if in a trance.

"I'm not one ordinarily inclined toward pointing out the short-comings or misfortunes of others. However, I do feel compelled—and motivated strictly by the demands of chivalry, believe me—to point out that you are, indeed, naked." He paused to swallow. "Again, most certainly and undeniably, without a stitch." Clearing his throat, he held out the shirt and said, huskily, "Although a more delightful sight I have yet to find in this godforsaken place, t'would be best for your present company if you'd cover up some of those delightful parts of yours."

The girl did not respond, but glanced up at the fluttering fabric in front of her face and frowned slightly. Jack raised his eyebrows and smiled in his most beguiling fashion, hoping she'd at least smile back. Instead, he was treated to a silent tear trickling down her cheek.

_Not good_, he thought to himself_. Not sure why she's so sad, what with being safe from that padre and his Inquisition. Ought to be downright grateful, come to think of it._

Perhaps she lost someone dear in the wreck. Could be possible. The thoughts swirled in his head, as he held out a hand to the girl. The least he could do is take care of her – feed her, clothe her – until he could figure out a way to get them out of there.

"_Guarico_. Come"

Obediently, she stood up with fluid grace. Sweeping her hair back, she allowed him to slip the shirt over her head then took his hand, docilely following him back towards the camp. Once there, she sank back down onto the sand and resumed her vigil watch on the sea.

Frustrated and unsure, Jack found the need for action, any action. Feeling more rested than he had in days, he decided that, in a day or two, he would be fit enough to attempt the crossing to New Providence, weather permitting. So far, there had been nothing but balmy breezes and white fluffy clouds benignly drifting across the blue sky. All that could change in an instant, as Jack was well aware, especially this time of year.

Glancing back at the girl, Jack made the decision to take her along. Couldn't just leave her, after all. It would help if she'd at least tell him where she was from, or where she'd been going, before they met. She couldn't have just appeared out of thin air…could she?

xxxx

Davies and his crew made their way up the coast of Florida, guiding the sloop closely along the shore, taking advantage of her shallow draft. They watched for any sign of human inhabitation, being aware of the reputation of the indigenous people along the coast and their dislike for foreigners. They made camp the first night as the sun was setting, settling around the fire drinking rum and exchanging tales of daring and adventure.

"Is it true what they say about Sparrow?" one of the crew men asked.

"Heard he sacked Nassau port without even firing a shot," another commented.

The men began arguing whether such a feat was possible, until their captain raised his hand and declared it all to be true.

"Tis true enough, gents. Some say it was brilliance, some madness. I say it's a bit of both, ol' Jack has. What say you, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded and said solemnly, "Jack Sparrow's one of them rarities in which them two traits coincide, 'tis true." He took a big swallow of rum and settled down, and leaned forward. "Many a tale's been told 'bout Jack Sparrow, aye," he began in a low voice "'Tis the unwise sod that to be discountin' the truth of 'em too soon, mark my words."

Davies agreed, leaning back and lighting his pipe. "Aye, I've sailed on a few of them ventures meself. None as crazy as the time Jack and us men took on Spain's entire Windward Isles fleet, without firing a shot. Brilliance that was, and crazy to boot." He puffed for a moment then started his tale.

"_And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape…"_

xxxx

Jack stretched out beside the fire, his eyes watching the girl as she sat quietly at his side. A balmy offshore breeze was blowing, rustling in the palms over their heads, a silvery moon rising in the star-spangled skies.

He had made some inroads with the girl; she would now sit contentedly beside him, though still keeping a bit of distance between them. She also had smiled several more times, inspired mostly by Jack's attempts to procure fish for their meal.

He leaned on one elbow, reclined in the sand, lazily relaxing after dinner, idly waggling a foot as he stared at the girl…staring at the water.

"I always admired a woman who was well versed and skilled in the fine art of enlightened conversation." He waited for a response, any indication from her. "Nothing bores me like a bore."

Nothing.

"Well, aye, you've a point there, silence is a virtue—at least I think it is."

He paused to ponder for a moment then shook his head, dismissing the thought.

"Ah! So we're to return to that line of conversation, is it?" he declared, sitting up in mock interest. "Well, I had thought we had covered that subject rather thoroughly last night, but I'm always open to re-examination of the more salient points. You first, darling," he swept an offering hand then waited expectantly. "Go ahead, don't be bashful. Speak up, we're all equals here."

His shoulders slumped. "No, I thought not. All right, then," he began, heaving a long sigh. "You leave me no choice…"

She watched him, a smile in her eyes as he began, with grand flourishes with words and hands, to extol the brilliance of one of his more daring escapades.

"_And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape._

xxxx

Frank Davies took a long pull on his pipe and continued.

"_Like enough, the odds were against us…the Spaniards had formidable fire power…a fourteen gunner, another with twenty-six guns and Admiral Espinosa's flagship, the Magdalena, with thirty-eight guns. They'd lightened their ships and sailed over the bar whilst we was plundering the town. Then they retook the fort, repaired the guns and waited. _

_Now we wasn't about to give up all that hard earned booty we'd risked all to take. So when the note came demanding us to surrender, I'll tell you plain each and every man was ready to fights to the death before surrendering their plunder to the filthy Spanish dogs. Hell, we'd risked our lives for it once and were quite prepared to do it again._

_We had ourselves a fair sized fleet as well, though no match in guns. Now them Spaniards were in no hurry to come after us, so we had us a week to devise us a plan. So what's we did, we sailed our entire fleet to within sight of the Spanish squadron and dropped anchor. Just sat there, fer two days we sat, making them nervous like. Then suddenly we was sailing at full speed into the blockade, led by a Cuban merchant ship we'd taken earlier, flying the Admiral's colours. She was headed straight towards Espinosa's flagship, came up alongside and grappled the Magdalena and made as if to board her._

_Exceptin' there weren't no ones swarming over her rail. When the Spaniards finally leapt over onto her decks, they found the crew had gone overboard over the other rail, having set fire to the powder magazine, leaving the ship manned by a row of dummies. And at that same moment, that Cuban ship burst into flame, completely engulfing the Magdalena, forcing Espinosa to leap into the water with his panicking men to avoids being roasted alive. _

_Seeing their flagship sinking fast, the other two ships cut their cables and ran for the protection of the fort's guns. They run 'em aground and set fire to 'em, so that's us pirates wouldn't capture 'em. But the men, theys were able to put out the fire on the fourteen gunner and refloat her. So, for all his efforts, Admiral Espinosa had simply given us mates another prize."_

Davies puffed contentedly and glanced up at the star studded sky, remembering the cleverness of the then much younger Captain Jack Sparrow. Daft most called him, but Davies knew better. _Brilliant madness_. A rare combination of traits. A combination which had propelled Davies to believing Jack was here… somewhere… along this coast. Lad was too clever by far to succumb to some rogue wave.

xxxx

_The fort was still blocking our escape, though. Now heavily reinforced by the survivors of the armada, they easily beat off our assault by land the next day. We offered them an exchange of hostages for free passage but they refused. So we were left with no other option._

Jack sat back with a smile of satisfaction as he remembered the events, chuckling to himself as he recalled the panic aboard the flagship. The dummies had added a special touch to the plan, originally destined for a dressmaker in Havana. Glancing over at the girl, he caught her clandestinely studying him through lowered lashes, a small smile on her face. Encouraged Jack leaned back and continued his tale.

_So ol' Jack here devised a genius plan. We waited a few days then returned with our little fleet, anchoring just out of range of them guns up at the fort. Throughout the day, I taunted them, plying the boats back and forth, with what would seem to them as landin' large amounts of men. Truth be told, no men were landin' at all, simply had them lay on the bottoms of the boats on the return trip. However, the Spaniards were fooled into thinkin' that we were planning another land assault on the fort. So, that night they turned their guns landward. And once it were dark, our ships simply weighed anchor and sailed out of the lagoon, pretty as you please."_

Jack finished his tale and leaned back, one hand behind his head, the other drumming a random tattoo on his chest. He stole a quick glance at the girl; she had listened throughout without a word, and now was once again, gazing out at the sea illuminated by the bright moon above.

With a shudder, she suddenly stood, her figure silhouetted against the firelight, poised as if to run. Then just as quickly, her shoulders drooped dejectedly and she collapsed in a huddle, eyes pooling with tears.

Jack felt a stirring inside, a need to comfort the poor girl. "_Guarico_," he said softly, holding out his hand. To his surprise she did, curling up in the crook of his arm, warm and soft as she buried her face in his shirt and sobbed silent tears. He wrapped his arm around her, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words of comfort, acutely aware of her warmth pressed against him.

"Well, they always say that actions speak louder than words. And I must admit that to be true..." Jack began, his free hand making a slow descent along the girl's back. She started and sat up abruptly, trembling as if ready to bolt. Jack held up his hands.

"All right, no worries, luv. Not that sort of action then. Have to admit I'm a bit relieved, actually…still a bit sore from the other night." He smiled and added, "Almost forgot to thank you for not visiting with ol' Jack last night, not sure if the lad would have been up for it. Figuratively speaking, seeing how he's certainly up for it at the moment."

Jack grinned sheepishly and surreptitiously adjusted himself with a slight wince. Clearing his throat he held out his hand again and said in a reassuring voice, "Promise I won't do nothing. A bit of a cuddle is a fine thing to be sure, and I must admit you're a fine thing to be cuddling."

The girl had moved off once more, sitting to one side, staring as ever at the sea. Jack sighed and laid back and gazed at the sky, amusing himself with naming the constellations while keeping a covert eye on her, wondering what the girl was watching for. For she was obviously waiting for something or someone to materialize out of the water.

xxxx

Gibbs finished the bottle of rum he was drinking, ruefully holding it up to the dim light from the campfire, before chucking it in the sand. The crew were all peacefully snoring, but Gibbs found himself annoyingly awake and decided to take a walk along the moonlit beach. It was perfect tropical evening, with a balmy breeze blowing gently, the palm trees rustling in accompaniment to the soft lapping of the waves.

Somewhere along this isolated stretch of coastline, he hoped to find Jack Sparrow. It a was gamble of long odds, aye. But the truth be told, Gibbs had a gut feeling that he'd be reunited with his friend, once more. Shaking his head at the thought of what hardships Jack must have had to endure, Gibbs made his way back to the camp and settled down for the night.

It seems only minutes, but must have been much later, when Gibbs was awakened by a smothering sense of presence upon him. Struggling to emerge from the dreamlike state he found himself in, Gibbs opened his eyes to a black shadow as it rose above where he laid. Gasping for breath he staggered to his feet, aware that the rest of the crew were ominously silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs caught the fleeting glimpse of a dark figure hurrying down the beach, before it disappeared into the sea.

xxxx

The girl rose suddenly, cocking her head as if listening, before slowly walking down towards the waterline. Jack followed her warily, wondering where she was going. The moonlight illuminated the shore, the sands glistening white, the shadows deep black. To Jack's surprise a darker shadow separated itself and slid silently towards the still figure of the girl, spreading wing like it rose above her. The hairs on the back of Jack's neck rose as he watched. Realizing this to be not a good thing, he took several quick strides in the girl's direction, calling loudly. The shadow paused then streamed away along the surface of the water. With a shudder, the girl collapsed in the wet sand, the waves lapping gently around her. With another quick look around, he gathered the unconscious girl in his arms, her skin once again cold to the touch. Returning to the camp, he stoked the fire and wrapped her in his coat, holding her in his arms as he kept vigil in the night. Whatever it was he had seen he was sure it had meant to do the girl harm.


	8. Chapter 7 Opportune Moment

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 7 – Opportune Moment

One ship drives east, and another west  
With the self-same winds that blow;  
'Tis the set of the sails  
And not the gales  
That decides the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,  
As they voyage along through life;  
'Tis the will of the soul  
That decides its goal,  
And not the calm or the strife.

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox_

xxxx

Henry Jennings, like many other privateers, was having difficulty adjusting to peacetime after the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht that signaled the end of the War of Spanish Succession. His ship, _Bathsheba_, sat idle in Kingston Harbor, while her captain whiled away his time drinking rum in the local taverns. This all in spite of the fact Governor Archibald Hamilton of Jamaica had commissioned the _Bathsheba_and her captainto hunt pirates. The governor supposed that Jennings, having been a privateer, knew enough about the habits of pirates to be able to find them, and either capture or kill them. What the governor didn't reckon on however, was that, as so many of those same pirates, Jennings had learned firsthand how rich a successful privateer/pirate could become, not to mention how exciting such a life was, in comparison to the hard life of a seaman.

So, when Henry Jennings heard of the Spanish salvaging of the wrecked treasure fleet on the east coast of Florida, his interest was definitely piqued. It was about the same time that Jennings decided to give up the respectable life of a British sea captain and resume the more exciting and lucrative life of privateering. It didn't seem to matter that England was no longer at war with Spain. Jennings knew very little about salvaging gold from sunken ships; however, his years of privateering had taught him how to relieve the Spaniards of gold. Jennings, who had carried a patent from the Jamaican governor to act as a privateer during the war, decided to set off with his ship to investigate further. His first destination was the island of New Providence. Being just a short distance across the channel from Florida, its location was ideal for staging an assault on the treasure camp. The island was also a favorite hangout for pirates and others that might be interested in joining forces with Jennings. For pirates were clever cobs. If they could find a treasure they could take, without much risk to themselves, they would do it. Henry Jennings was one of those who saw in the treasure camp a rare opportunity and one to be seized quickly.

xxxx

It had been five days since the _Contessa_ had reached the coast of Florida. Gibbs, struggling to keep an optimistic outlook, was beginning to falter in his initial hopes of finding Jack alive. Not helping matters were the troubling dreams that had plagued him nightly, since they'd set foot on the shore of this godforsaken place. Each night the same dream: a presence visiting in the black of night, sucking his strength away, while arousing him in a most alarming fashion.

Gibbs was no stranger to erotic dreams, yet, as the years had passed, his fantasies had mellowed to where a good wench, on the occasional shore leave, would tide him over during the long months at sea. Now, he was suddenly treated to nightly erections and unsated needs. More than a bit embarrassed, Gibbs had taken to wakening earlier than the crew, relieving his pent up needs in the seclusion of the scrub during the predawn hours.

What was more haunting was the face of his nocturnal visitor; a dark eyed beauty, silent and sensual, consuming his waking hours, as much as she did his dreams.

xxxx

Jack Sparrow glanced over at his companion as she silently lay sleeping. The sun was several hours high but still the girl dozed, her face peaceful in repose.

"Wish you'd learn to sleep nights, like normal wenches," Jack muttered as he blearily contemplated her. "Spent me first nights unable to get away from you. Now I spend them chasing after you. Makes no sense. Oughtta to have just let you go, if that's what you're so bent on doing."

The previous night had started pleasant enough. After sharing a simple meal, the girl had settled at Jack's feet, while he entertained her with another round of tales from his many adventures. He was not sure she could understand a word, but she'd tilt her head most fetchingly and smile at the right places. It was at least encouraging. Jack had just finished up a particularly exciting tale of intrigue and mayhem, when nature called in the worse way. Sensing the girl was settled down for the night, Jack made his excuses and headed towards the tree line.

When he returned, the girl was gone.

"Bugger! Can't even relieve meself without her disappearing," Jack groused to himself. "Not that I don't know where she'd gone. Damn wench thinks she's a fish or something. I love the sea as much as the next blighter; don't mean I want to be swimming in it, especially at night."

He made his way towards the waterline, the moon illuminating the beach. He could just make out the girl, waist deep in the water.

"Blast! What's she trying to do, swim her way off this bloody coast?" he grumbled to no one but himself.

"Suppose I'm going to have to go fetch her back, before she becomes bloody shark food. Not the way I fancy going, being swallowed by a bleedin' fish."

He passed a puddle of white lying on the sand that was her shirt. Kicking it with his bare toe he added, muttering, "Bad enough she'd decided on a moonlight swim, but taking her bloody clothes off is just tempting a man… or fish… beyond their endurance."

Jack threw his hands up in exasperation as he splashed his way out towards the girl, all the while certain they'd both end up as supper for some large fish. When he finally reached her, she appeared to be sleepwalking, blank-eyed and dazed, and did not resist as he physically pulled her from the surf.

It wasn't until he was safely ashore with her, that Jack became cognizant that he was carrying a very beautiful…and very naked woman in his arms. What's more, his body was eloquently aware, and was responding accordingly, as it was apt to do, when that close and personal to such tempting amounts of womanly flesh.

"_Steady boy," he murmured, adjusting himself as best he could with both arms occupied. "Wouldn't be fair to take her now, she's not bloody conscious for one. Too many more nights like this and we'll be joining her in that unconscious state."_

Jack carried the girl back to the campsite, where he wrapped her, once again, in his coat. It marked another sleepless night for him, and the weariness was getting to him. Jack decided it was time to try and get off the blasted coast.

"Feels like bloody _Aeaea_ around here. Best thing about here would be seeing it in me wake."

He was feeling physically stronger, though still fatigued from lack of sleep—from chasing the blessed girl. Yet, he knew the Bahamas were just a short stretch of water away. He made the decision to attempt a crossing the following day.

"At least then," he said to the slumbering figure at his side, "you won't be havin' so far to go; we'll be _on_the ruddy water..."

xxxx

Jack spied the mast around midday. It was only by chance that he caught a glimpse at all. Having crested the dune in search of something edible, he happened to catch sight of the vessel through the vegetation lining the shore. A single mast, sloop no doubt, making her way up the coast, skirting the shallows, yet close enough to peruse the shore. Shading his eyes against the sun's glare, he watched from his vantage point as the vessel slowly tacked in along the shoals lining the beach. Five, perhaps six hands on board, not flying any colors. Uncertain if they were friend or foe, Jack decided to keep a weather eye on the sloop before showing himself,

A movement caught his eye further down the beach. Damn! The girl had awakened and was wandering her way south, her feet in the surf per her usual habit. Jack scurried down the slope, skittering on the loose sand, as he hastened to reach her before the unknown men aboard the boat did. If foes, there would be little to protect her from them ravishing her… or worse.

xxxx

"Cap'n!"

The lookout aloft called down to Davies as they rounded the point.

"What is it, Grieves?"

The man aloft studied the figure on the beach through his spyglass, giving a low whistle as he discerned the slender form clad in nothing but a lightweight and revealing shirt.

"Ashore, sir! Appears to be a woman, Cap'n. Comely one at that."

Davies pulled out his own glass and peered through it. To his astonishment, his lookout was right. A young woman, barely clothed, a beauty from what he could make out.

"By my reckoning, that there be a fair piece to be sure," Davies said with an appreciative grin. He handed the glass to Gibbs standing next to him and added, "What say you, Mister Gibbs? Is she not a pearl o'dainty woman-wear?"

Gibbs stared through the glass and almost choked. There, wandering the beach half-clad was none other than the girl of his dreams.

xxxx

Jack watched as the sloop disappeared as it rounded the bar then turn to tack in towards shore. He lengthened his stride until he'd caught up with the girl and quickly pulled her away from the shore towards the scrub lining the dunes. Blast! They'd no doubt caught sight of her; Jack had seen the sun reflecting off their glass. Without weapons, or other means to defend themselves, the two were in a precarious position, if the party on board the sloop turned out to be not so friendly.

The girl, sensing Jack's alarm nodded and pointed towards the thickets further away from the shore. Hunching down in the sand she began to camouflage herself with branches and greenery, burying herself as quickly as one of the crabs that ran along the water's edge.

"Aye, I see! So that's how you managed to stay hidden from them Spaniards for so long," Jack said, with a knowing grin and followed suit.

The two of them hid motionless, barely breathing as they watched the sloop as it reappeared not more than a dozen yards offshore.

From the movement on board, it appeared the ship would only be sending a scouting party ashore, the others remaining on board to man the swivel guns and muskets pointed towards the beach. From his burrow, Jack heard the scrunch of the boat as it was beached and the men's voices as they came ashore. Men's voices that were very familiar.

Gibbs! Jack poked his head up and to his delight saw the familiar figure of his quartermaster striding along the beach, his companion, and none other than another old friend, Frank Davies.

"Bless me lights and gizzard! It's Jack!" Gibbs looked in astonishment at his captain as he emerged from the underbrush lining the dunes.

Jack grinned wide and strode quickly towards the men. "Mister Gibbs!"

The two men met and slapped each other on the back, never believing they'd see each other alive again.

"Gibbs! You're a sight for sore eyes, to be sure!"

Jack then turned to Davies who stood with arms crossed, rocking on his heels, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Davies, still alive an' kickin', you old skulk, you! What brings you to these weird and haunted shores?"

"Come looking for you." He clasped Jack's hand heartily and said with a grin, "Perish and plague me, Jack, if I were to believe a rogue wave could do ye in. Told ol' Gibbs here that when he came limping into Nassau on the _Pearl_…"

"The_Pearl_! She survived then?" Jack's heart leapt at the news.

"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs said, solemnly. "She took a mighty batterin', but her heart was staunch and true. Brought us all safely to harbor."

The men exchanged a few more pleasantries then Davies asked, "Thought we'd seen a slip of a girl along this shore. Know anything about her?"

"Girl?" Jack asked innocently, feigning ignorance. "Not quite so addled by the sun to be imaginin' the fairer sex."

"Neither am I, yet I saw her, clear as mud." Davies crossed his arms and winked at Jack. You'd remember her... black hair, handsome wench. Scarcely clad at that."

Jack grimaced slightly. "Oh! That one." He sighed, then continued reluctantly. "Shipwrecked, off one of the Spanish ships. Was being sent to the Inquisition when I found her…or she found me…not sure just exactly which. Just sort of showed up one day…night." Jack trailed off then shook his head and added glibly, "Girl of me dreams…sort of."

Gibbs found himself suddenly flushed and cleared his throat. "That be her, Cap'n?" He pointed over his shoulder at the girl making her way across the sand towards them. Her dark hair swung loosely around her shoulders as she walked, her bare legs shapely, her face beautiful and haunting.

Jack smiled and said brightly, "Aye! That's the one!"

He drew her next to him, draping an arm possessively around her shoulders. "I'd introduce her to you, but there seems to be a small, insignificant problem of me not knowing her name."

Gibbs swallowed, his body reacting in a very alarming fashion to the sight of her. Obviously, she couldn't be the girl in his dream, could she? He'd never laid eyes on her before. Yet, she seemed so familiar.

Davies chuckled and bowed slightly. "Pleasure to meet you, lass." He slapped Jack on the back and added with gusto, "Here we were expectin' to find ye half dead and starvin'. And instead, find ye've been lying on a beach all these days, with a bit of daintiness and a smile on your face. _Thought_I'd seen ye limpin' there a bit. I ought t' have known better!"

Jack frowned and pulled the girl closer. "It's not like you're thinkin', mate. She was in need of rescuing; couldn't just leave her to them butchers."

"Damsel in distress, eh? Well, like I were tellin' me boys, you always were the best yarn-spinner I ever heard!" Davies chuckled again and shook his head. "No matter, Jack. Have t' admit, yer looking the worse for wear, though. When was the last time ye slept, son?" he asked, with a salacious waggle of his brows.

"Been havin' a bit of trouble there," Jack admitted. "Bad dreams."

"Girl's been keepin' you up, eh?" Davies grinned and added slyly, "In more ways than one I imagine."

The others grinned and jabbed elbows, their captain's meaning perfectly clear.

Gibbs frowned, squirming uncomfortably at the mention of dreams.

"Well, we best be settin' sail 'fore sunset," Davies said amiably to Jack. "Imagine you might be wantin' to get back to yer ship, aye?"

xxxx

Sailors are a suspicious lot by nature. The crew of the _Tess_ was no different. Having a woman on board, comely or not, did not bode well. Having one that didn't speak, sitting there silent as a ghost, was even more disconcerting.

Gibbs, finding himself particularly flustered by the girl's presence, sought out Jack, in a moment of solitude, with his concerns. He leaned close, his eyes darting warily up and down the decks, lest anyone overhear.

"Cap'n." he whispered. "Beggin' yer pardon, but not to be soundin' daft or nothin'…"

"We'll spit it out, man," Jack grumbled back "Can't be half as daft as some of the other bits of daftness been troublin' me.

Gibbs mouth moved wordlessly, the entire matter suddenly seeming overwhelmingly improbable. "Well, it's the girl, Cap'n. I keep thinkin'… I've met her… somewhere… maybe."

Jack gave him a dour look. "You realize you're making no sense a 'tall."

Gulping, Gibbs pressed on. "It's like she's been visitin' me these past nights."

"Visitin' you say." Jack's eyes darted uncertainly then he shook his head. "Impossible! She's been on the beach these past days. I can bloody well attest to that!" he declared, shifting in his own discomfiture. "I've many a sleepless night to prove she's not been further than the brink. Couldn't seem to keep her out of it," he said more to himself.

"That's the daft bit." Gibbs continued, eagerly. "It's dreamin' for certain…but me parts," he added, almost strangling on the word, "feel it real like."

"Parts you say," Jack echoed, pensively.

"Aye, Cap'n. Wakin' up with the goods all a-achin' fit t' explode. Don't seem right none, her bein' so young. Bit like robbin' the cradle, if you get my gist."

Jack glanced at the other men on board, and then the girl, sitting coiled near the bow, intently staring at the sea. Something in her manner sent a warning bell off in Jack's head.

"I'd be keepin' that gist to yourself, mate," he told Gibbs, quietly. "The girl can't be the one scratchin' your itch. At least, not how I figure it."

"_Something's odd though_," he thought to himself. _Something odd, indeed_.

xxxx

The dark shadow skimmed across the surface of the sea, leaving an angry trail of white tipped waves in her wake. Following the path of the sloop, the wrath-like shape swirled in frustrated fury, whipping the seas below into a frenzy of roiling water. Frustration mounted, she could see and smell her prey, but was helpless to take them once they had left land. Her fury exploded in loud claps of thunder and driving rain, her intent to drive the vessel back towards the treacherous and jagged reefs. From her fragmented form, a wailing came forth, a baneful cry of unsated desire.

xxxx

All hands aboard the _Tess_ scrambled to douse canvas in the face of the sudden squall. The small sloop pitched wildly in the roiling surf, the winds buffeting her as waves crashed mercilessly against her hull. Davies barked his orders as he held tight to the tiller, squinting his eyes against the salty spray and driving rain. Jack made his way across the tilting deck awash with swirling water, an impending sense of déjà vu surrounding him. His mind fractured as he recalled the storm that had washed him off the _Pearl_. Shaken and wild–eyed, he squinted to see through the near darkness to where he'd last spied the girl. She was still there, coiled against the bow, eyes wide and hands outstretched towards the sea, as if welcoming the storm…or more disconcerting…_controlling_ it.


	9. Chapter 8 The Homecoming

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 8 – The Homecoming

Beauty in desolation was her pride,  
Her crowned array a glory that had been;  
She faltered tow'rds us like a swan that died,  
But altogether ruined she was still a queen.

"Put back with all her sails gone," went the word;  
Then, from her signals flying, rumor ran,  
"The sea that stove her boats in killed her third;  
She has been gutted and has lost a man."

So, as though stepping to a funeral march,  
She passed defeated homewards whence she came,  
Ragged with tattered canvas white as starch,  
A wild bird that misfortune had made tame.

_John Masefield_

xxxx

"Let her be!" Jack bellowed, straining to be heard above the howling wind as he struggled towards the bow of the sloop, now wildly pitching in the heavy seas. "Unhand her!"

His words were snatched away by the wind, his mind fracturing into a dozen voices all clambering in unison.

"_Look at 'er! I'm tellin' you, mate, she's a sea demon to be sure!"_

"_A bad weather witch, and there's the truth of it!"_

"_She'll be the death of us all, Jackie boy."_

"_Tis 'bout time someone took her to task."_

"Belay that! Stow it!" Jack shook his head violently, desperately trying to reach the bow where two of the crew had seized the girl with the obvious intent to throw her overboard.

Above the shrieking banshee cry of the wind, a louder sound caught everyone's attention. All eyes turned aft, where Captain Davies stood, one pistol still smoking, the other aimed steadily at the cluster of men.

"Avast! Belay that! " Davies barked, a murderous intent in his eyes. "Loose me the woman and lay aft, here!"

As if the storm itself were taking heed, the rain slackened, the winds laid and the seas calmed slightly as the two men, their frenzy likewise abated, released the girl. Subdued, they made their way to where their captain stood glaring at them from the tiller.

Jack reached the girl just as she slumped down onto the deck, her passiveness a stark contrast to the violence all around her.

"What's the meaning of all this?" Davies demanded.

"She brought the storm upon us," the crewman pointed out, defensively "You saw her!"

"Never bodes well to have a woman on board," growled the other.

"She'll curse us all," called another, from near the rail "She's another Jonah, I tell ye!"

"Better we throw her overboard than all perish!" came a shout from among the others.

"Keep your tongues between your teeth!" Davies bellowed, glaring. "Hold still, the lot of ye. Yer a pair of superstitious goats and it's got the best of you."

He glanced towards the bow where Jack was slumped on deck, the girl cradled in his arms, Gibbs standing watch over them. Davies' brow furrowed with concern.

"That girl may be trouble, aye. But only to Jack Sparrow, from the looks of it," Davies mused, more to himself than the others.

xxxx

The sloop rounded Hog Island and entered the sheltered harbor of New Providence on the dawn's incoming tide. Jack Sparrow had spent yet another sleepless night, this time battling the storm without and within as he had wrestled the half-crazed men both aboard the sloop and within his mind.

By then the storm had quelled both at sea and among the weary men as they entered port with sighs of relief, looking forward to some well-deserved rest and relaxation on shore.

His exhausted eyes straining to see through the morning mist, Jack fervently scanned the crowded harbor, searching for the _Black Pearl_ among the many ships and sloops anchored there. The fact that she survived at all was, in itself, a miracle.

His heart beat with anticipation and trepidation as he waited anxiously to see what damages the storm had wrought upon his ship.

The black hull of the _Pearl_ loomed out of the mists in front of them. Davies ordered the _Tess_ to tack in close to the derelict ship, in order to allow Jack to see what remained of his _Pearl_. In the swirling mist she appeared wraith-like, her beauty a shattered thing. Her rigging's disarray, like draggled hair disheveled, hung drooping around her broken masts. The once majestic _Black Pearl_ sat forlorn and forsaken, a wounded sea bird with a broken wing.

For one brief moment that lasted for eternity, Jack was absolutely still. He drew a sharp breath and held it as his heart stopped, all thoughts dissolving. He stood mute as the image of his shattered ship burned indelibly into his brain. His eyes took in the broken spars, the shredded sails, the shattered masts. Her rigging hung in a snarl across her decks and rails, obscuring her sleek form in an endless tangle of lines, and shrouds and canvas. Her bowsprit and figurehead alone remained untouched – only the sparrow aloft in endless flight from outstretched hand identified this ruin as his beloved _Pearl._

Jack's shoulders slumped as he slowly closed his eyes, his head a muddled, swirling mix of relief and pain. He felt each of his ship's injuries as if each rip in her canvas had been his own skin, each spar snapped had been one of his bones shattering. He clung to the rail for support, feeling his beloved ship's pain, all because of him.

Sensing his distress, the girl sidled closer, touching his arm, seeking his eyes. Turning, Jack blinked, his thoughts slowly returning, as if waking from a dream.

Gibbs allowed Jack time to take in the enormity of the loss before speaking. .

"We didn't do much with her Cap'n," Gibbs began, tentatively after clearing his throat. "'sides running the pumps t' dry 'er out. Make her more comfortable like. Didn't seem much we could do, her heart pining as it were. Cleaned her up best we could, so's t' leave her a bit of dignity."

Still dazed, Jack nodded vaguely to his quartermaster.

"T'was afraid she were lost t' the sea." Jack stumbled on the words, exhaustion and emotion getting the best of him.

Gibbs reassured his friend best he could.

"She took a fair beatin', aye. Staunch and true t' the end she were. Weren't 'til we were safe in port that she started t' list at the scuppers. Don't see no real damage below, though she might be hidin' it like, not wantin' t' admit she's wounded. Heard of wild beasts doin' that, so as t' survive."

Davies came over to where the two men stood by the rail and nodded his head in the direction of the _Pearl_.

"You look fair beat, lad," he said kindly to Jack. "Yer needin' some real food and a good night's sleep, but I'm s'posing yer needin' the _Pearl_ more. I'll have a plank laid across for ye, and send a boat out for ye later."

Sensing that Jack needed time alone, Gibbs offered to take the girl ashore with him.

Jack glanced over at the crew of the _Tess_, their mood less murderous but still sullen, and shook his head.

"No, I'm thinkin' t'might be best if I keep her with me."

Gibbs nodded and said quietly, "Aye, Cap'n. The settlement's a bit rough, what with a girl so young and…" He reddened slightly as he glanced at the girl as she stood clutching Jack's coat around herself. Apparently sensing the tension, she drew closer to Jack.

"Might want t' find her somethin' t' wear 'fore takin' her 'round the gents, aye," he added sheepishly.

Davies chuckled quietly at seeing Gibbs' apparent discomfort with the scantily clad girl, an old hand to when it came to Jack and the ladies. Those of the female persuasion seemed to find Jack Sparrow irresistible. Lad couldn't even get himself shipwrecked without finding one swimming about.

"Go make amends with yer ship, boy. Won't sleep a wink 'til ye do. I'll send some stores out to ye. Imagine ye might go for a spot of rum about now, eh?"

Jack gave his old friend a grateful smile.

"I owe you one, mate." The two shook hands, no other words needed.

xxxx

Jack closed his eyes and felt the ship under his feet, her timbers groaning slightly as the tide lapped against her hull. The wind freshened; her tattered sails fluttered a sad song of loss, betrayal and remorse.

Drawing a deep breath, Jack opened his eyes and set his jaw in determination. He'd let his beloved ship down, almost lost her and his crew in a moment of rash action. He reckoned he had a debt to pay – if she'd have him back.

As his fingers first touched the rail, he felt a shudder and wondered if it were he or the ship--or both.

"At'a girl, luv," he murmured, his fingers stroking the well-worn wood. "I'm here now. We'll make it right. We'll make us both right, eh?"

The deck dipped beneath his feet, as the _Pearl_ acknowledged his presence. The two of them communed, each seeming to draw strength from the other. Finally Jack turned, a smile hovering on his lips as he took a deep breath, a tremendous burden lifted. The_Pearl_ as well, seemed to be sitting taller in the water, her one remaining sail fluttered in response to Jack as he swept his arm out in a wide arc.

"I'd say we have a fair job ahead of us, Mister Gibbs."

His quartermaster nodded and said brightly, "Aye, Cap'n. A fair one, indeed."

Gibbs glanced over at the girl as she stood along the rail, her eyes wide as she silently watched the two men. He felt an unaccustomed warmth stealing along his neck and cheeks as her eyes met his, warm pools, black as night, drawing him inward...

Shaking his head clear, Gibbs looked away to the _Tess_, still secured at the _Pearl's_ side.

"Perhaps I ought t' go ashore, Cap'n," Gibbs said hoarsely, averting his eye from the tantalizing image of the girl. She had shed Jack's coat and was now standing in the midst of the tangle of lines and fallen rigging, eyes closed and face tilted upwards to catch the sunlight as it broke through the morning mists. "See to getting' some crew to help with repairs."

Still distracted by the _Pearl's_ state, Jack nodded and cocked his head in the direction of the sloop and said simply, "Best not keep the good captain waiting. I imagine his gents would like t' go ashore."

Ducking a casual salute, Gibbs agreed to return later with a boat and supplies.

xxxx

Jack sighed and picked his way gingerly through the clutter of debris on deck to the helm. Placing his hand on the wheel, he closed his eyes and smiled as images swirled in his mind.

_The Pearl, his love…his freedom. He is at the helm, salty spray on his face, guiding her through the tranquil blue waters of the Caribbean seas. Her sails billowing and flapping in the breeze give him wings to soar. The wind is free and he is free to sail wherever it blows. He is free…free to sail beyond the edges of the map…free from death itself. _

A touch on his hand broke his reverie. The girl smiled, her hand on his. She took his hand and placed it against her breast, where he could feel her heart beating, steady and strong. Her other hand wrapped around his on the wheel, their touch mingling on the smooth wood. He felt the _Pearl's_ pulse as well, in synchronicity with the girl's. For a moment, under the warmth of the Caribbean sun, all was still…except the beating of three hearts…three souls entwined.


	10. Chapter 9 Phantoms All

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 9 – Phantoms All

In Caribbean coves, dark vanished vessels,  
Lurking and hiding thrice a hundred years,  
Figure again your mad and merry wrestles,  
Beaks of the buccaneers!

Through dusky bayous known in old romances  
In one great furtive squadron move, you host  
That took to death and drowning those free-lances,  
The Brethren of the Coast!

Come, Drake, come, Hawkins, to your sad employer,  
Come, L'Olonnois and Davila, again,  
Come, you great ships of Montbar the Destroyer,  
Of Morgan and his men!

Dipping and slipping under shadowy highlands,  
Dashing in haste the swifter fate to meet,  
Come from your wrecks on haunted keys and islands,  
Cervera's valiant fleet!

_ Harriet Prescott Spofford_

xxxx

The beach was a bevy of activity when the crew of the _Tess_ came ashore. Several newcomers had arrived, among them the ex-privateer Henry Jennings, his purpose to gather crew, his goal to locate the treasure camp across the channel where the Spanish salvagers were stockpiling the recovered sunken treasure. The promise of easy pickings was a difficult offer to turn down. There was no shortage of eager men willing to join sign on.

Gibbs accompanied Davies and his crew as they made their way down the beach to where the others were camped. From the conversations all around, it appeared most of Davies' old crew might have already signed on to this new venture. He couldn't blame them, not with that much gold just sitting there for the taking.

"Well, I best be settin' to findin' Jack some men as well," Gibbs said, scanning the beach for signs of any of his former crew.

"Pickin's will be slim," Davies commented, pulling out his pipe and settling wearily down for a smoke. "Jennings has several sloops and two ships to outfit, offering what amounts to a lot of gold for little work. How can a soul pass that up?"

Davies dragged at his pipe and added philosophically. "Thinkin' of joinin' meself. Take the _Tess_ back out, see if I can't line my pockets with some Spanish gold." He glanced up at the weary quartermaster of the _Pearl_ and added, "Could use a good first mate."

Gibbs shook his head resignedly. "Best I stay here, keep an eye on the _Pearl_. Word there's a few out here that's been castin' covetous eyes t'wards her."

"_Aye. And keep an eye on her captain too_," Davies thought to himself. He stood and shook Gibbs' hand. "My offer stands. I wish you luck with your endeavor."

Gibbs nodded and thanked him again as the two men parted. Davies had known before asking that Gibbs would stay with his captain. Loyalty such as that was a rare commodity these days. He watched as Gibbs made his way wearily down the beach, silently wishing him luck, knowing he'd be needing all he could get.

xxxx

"The_ Pearl_ and me, we go way back." Jack said brightly, making his way across the tangled deck, the young woman in tow. "She were me first love, t'will probably be me last as well." He paused and rubbed a loving hand along her smooth rail. In return, the ship bowed gently and fluttered her bit of sail.

"Fastest ship in the Caribbean, luv," he told the wide-eyed girl at his elbow as she mirrored each one of his caresses with her own, fingers lingering over the wood where his hand had just passed, feeling the emotional bond between captain and ship.

"Quite a mess she's in; took a beatin' she didn't deserve. Her heart still beats though, beneath all this." Jack waved a hand in the direction of the snarl of lines and rigging. He made his way towards the stern, ducking under the mainmast's top-gallant mast and yard that lay splintered across the deck.

Reaching the great cabin's doors he paused, not sure what to expect within. Had the storm's winds and rain destroy those precious items within: his books, his charts? Taking a deep breath he pulled open the double doors and pushed aside the heavy curtain. Heaving a sigh of relief, he saw the cabin had not fared as poorly as he feared. Items not secured before the storm were strewn across the floor, chairs overturned and several lamps shattered. But the windows had remained intact, and there was little water damage.

He entered the cabin slowly, the girl close behind, remembering another time when he had lost his ship, to that perfidious rotter Barbossa who had led a mutiny against him. By the time Jack had regained the_ Pearl __that time_, she'd been in shambles. This time though, there was no one to blame but himself.

"Oh!"

A familiar object caught his eye where it lay under the heavy mahogany table in the center of the room. Bending down, Jack retrieved his hat, rubbing a hand along the well- worn leather, a small smile twitching on his face. He squared it upon his head and turned towards the girl, who was now curiously exploring the many exotic objects strewn across the floor. From among the souvenirs of past adventures that had tumbled off a shelf, she picked up an ornate comb, made of tortoise shell.

"A token of affection from a lovely lass in Barbados." Jack explained, smiling as he recalled the circumstances that had garnered that affection.

_It had been many years ago. Jack had been naught but a teen, still learning the ways of the sea…and of women. A dark eyed beauty she'd been, older in years yet an enchanting seductress that had delighted in teaching the young and inexperienced lad the intricate ways of pleasing a woman. While the ship spent the week in port being resupplied and refitted, Jack spent the time delightfully engaged in learning the art of pleasuring the lovely Marguerite. Unfortunately, Jack's education was abruptly cut short with the arrival of her husband, who'd been away on business at his sugar plantation in the hills. As Jack scrambled out the window and climbed down the flowering vine clinging to the wall, Marguerite had leaned over the balcony, her black hair cascading over her creamy breasts as she pulled the comb from her tresses. "To remember me," she'd told him._

Jack went over to the girl and, with a gentle smile, took the comb from her. With hesitant hands, he swept her black hair upward and secured it with the comb. The transformation was stunning, his breath caught in his throat as her lovely face tilted upward, watching him with solemn eyes. With her hair up, the girl was even more enticing, her bare neck an uncharted territory begging to be explored. Jack hovered over her, his lips desiring to follow the line of her throat downward to where it disappeared beneath the flimsy shirt she'd been wearing as dress. Resisting the urge to do more, Jack groaned to himself, gently placing a chaste kiss on her forehead instead.

"We best be finding you something to wear," Jack said hoarsely, clearing his throat and averting his eyes from the tantalizing sight before him. "Won't do to have you running around an island full of half-crazed men dressed in naught but a wisp of cloth."

He moved away from temptation, replacing items from where they'd fallen, busying his hands to keep from doing something he'd later regret. The girl wasn't helping matters, following him like a shadow, touching what he touched, her fingers lingering over every item as if reading them.

"_Steady lad_," Jack muttered to himself. "_Just got her trusting us, don't want to be scaring her off now_."

Before the voices in his head could argue the point, a thump on the side of the hull signaled Gibbs' return. Relieved by the distraction, Jack made his way out on deck, the girl dogging his footsteps.

Gibbs was not alone; he came with Cotton and Marty in tow. Jack shook their hands, nodding towards the girl.

"Found a stray on the beach, nice girl, doesn't speak much. She's my guest, to be treated accordingly."

Marty greeted the girl politely, Cotton nodded and smiled as his parrot flapped its wings and squawked.

Jack gestured towards Cotton "The two of you will have loads to talk about, I'm sure," he told the girl glibly.

Having brought out some stores and other useful items, including a case of rum, they set about unloading the longboat.

xxxx

The rest of the day was spent, accessing the _Pearl_'s storm damage. The hold was a jumble of loosed cargo and sodden wares, the bilge knee-deep in water indicating a leak somewhere, possibly below the waterline. Besides the broken top-masts and spars, it appeared the rudder had suffered damage as well. Not knowing what else lurked beneath the water, Jack made the decision to careen the_Pearl_ at the earliest convenience.

"We'll be needin' a crew to man the winches and pulleys," Jack noted to Gibbs. "She doesn't seem to be takin' on enough water to sink her, but it would be best to see what the damage is before another storm passes this way."

Gibbs groaned inwardly. Finding a crew to man a seaworthy _Pearl_ would be hard enough; finding one to labor without reward would be nigh impossible. He decided to seek out Davies and his offer to sail for Spanish gold. An undertaking such as Jack proposed would require a bit of gold to compensate for all that hard labor under the hot Caribbean sun.

xxxx

Gibbs made his way through the clutter of makeshift tents and campfires, towards the shantytown that lay beyond the sandy berm lining the beach. His head bent in thought, he barely noticed his surroundings as he trudged along , following the curve of the bay to where a dilapidated dock jutted out into the blue green water. Several fishing vessels were moored there, and the dock itself teamed with activity as the local fishermen mended their nets and tended their catch. From there, he climbed inland, across a dune anchored by coastal grasses and sea grapes, and then followed a rutted path through a stand of coastline trees. The tall pines offered welcome shade; the palms, accented by the raucous cries of the enormous flocks of parrots crowding the tree tops, lent a tropical flavor.

Gibbs reached the small settlement, a collection of wattle and mud smeared houses, with palm thatched roofs and deep porches. There were several wooden buildings as well, the first being a store that had an assortment of local produce displayed in front. The next building was a rum shop, the third a tavern that advertised rooms above to let. Several other shops were scattered about, offering those things a visiting pirate might need: gunpowder, rum, women.

Gibbs stopped at the nearest tavern. Parched of thirst and troubled in spirit, he ducked into the welcoming gloom of the interior and shuffled to an empty table where he slumped down in an exhausted heap.

Despite the earliness of the hour, the tavern was half-full. Gibbs motioned the serving wench over and ordered a pint of ale and plate of food. He knocked back half the tankard on the first swallow as he wondered how he was going to find the crew he'd promised Jack. As relieved as Gibbs had been to find his captain alive, he was deeply troubled, as well. At best, in the days leading up to the storm, Jack's stability had been precarious. Gibbs feared his weeks of isolation could not have boded well for his fragile state of mind. With the_Pearl_ damaged along with her captain, the presence of a wraith-like female only complicating matters, finding a crew this time would be difficult.

In the past, finding crews for Jack had always been a dicey affair. On more than several occasions, Gibbs had had to resort to picking from the less desirables of an already less than desirable bunch, manning the _Pearl_ with an assortment of misfits and malcontents. For nigh on a week now, he'd been plying the beachfront, seeking a crew to help careen and repair the _Pearl_, with no luck at all. Most of the men who had not already signed on with Jennings's venture, had heard the tales that had been circulating around the islands since Jack's return from Bedlam. Now, with Jack being considered a jinx, few men were willing to sail with him.

Deep in thought, Gibbs didn't look up as the door to the tavern opened and several men sauntered in, surveying the room. Seeing Gibbs, one of them approached the table and nodded at the empty chair opposite.

"Fair mornin' to ye. We've walked across to stretch our legs and to give you good-day."

Surprised out of his reverie, Gibbs looked up at the stranger, a tallish fellow with black hair and a great bushy beard. Waving a hand at the empty chair, he furrowed his brow.

"Not sure I've had the pleasure. What might your name be?"

The man sat down and pushed his hat back on his head. "Name's Teach," he said, with a devilish grin. "Heard tell yer the quartermaster of that black ship sittin' all busted up out in the bay."

Gibbs nodded and took a swallow from his mug. "Aye, the _Black Pearl_. Took quite a beatin' in the hurricane."

The newcomer signaled the serving girl to bring him some rum then settled back in his chair, crossing his legs confidently in front of him.

"Heard also yer lookin' for a crew." He inclined his head towards the men that had accompanied him into the tavern, a surly bunch now seated around a table halfway between them and the door. "Me gents are lookin' for a berth as well," the black-bearded Teach continued, his voice a low growl.

Gibbs remained casual as he finished his drink and set the tankard down on the table. He made to rise but the stranger stopped him, holding out a hand while filling his empty cup with rum.

"No need to push off, mate," the man said with a friendly grin, sliding the mug closer to Gibbs. "Stay and have a dram of rum with me and me boys."

Alerted by inner alarms, Gibbs vacillated between staying and going. "_By the saints these past weeks had been infernally long_," he thought to himself, "_and that rum sure is lookin' mighty invitin', not to mention the fact that I have no bleedin' idea where to scrounge a crew willin' to repair a ship before sailin' on her_." He slowly sank back into his chair, took the cup offered him and swallowed a warm mouthful of the fiery liquid. Warmth spread outward from his belly and he relaxed slightly. _"Can't see no harm in drinkin'a bit of his rum, gent seems to be in a generous mood. Might as well bide awhile, hear the fellow out,"_ he mused to himself.

Ed Teach settled back as well, maintaining a passive and friendly face as he filled the older gent's mug once again, before resuming their conversation.

"Boys on the beach are saying ye fetched Jack Sparrow back from the deep over there in Florida."

Gibbs nodded, drinking deeply once again from his mug. "Aye, that we did. Blessed sweet westerlies, what a surprise it were to find 'em live and well." Gibbs nodded and leaned forward in a conspirical manner, the drink on an empty belly making him feel a might better than he'd felt for some time. "And he weren't alone neither," Gibbs said with a suggestive waggle of brows.

Teach raised his bushy brows as well, filling Gibbs' cup once more. "Is that so?" He glanced over at his men and leaned forward, whispering back. "Story is she's a sea demon."

Gibbs nodded and added in an ominous tone, "More like a succubus, coming in the night, seducin' and suckin' the life out of men." He closed his eyes briefly, remembering his own visitations, reddening slightly as he felt an accompanying stirring in his loins. Ducking his nose in his tankard he added hoarsely, "If you believe in such things."

Teach studied the seasoned salt in front of him. Rumors had been going 'round about a black shadowy figure stalking the men along the beach, causing more than one to swear he'd been with a woman, though none were about come morning. Even his own men had been complaining about havin' an itch in the belly.

So, Jack Sparrow had found himself a succubus while marooned over in Florida, a wild place, where magic still flowed. He'd heard the tales, old legends, of ships crewed by zombies and glimpsed only at midnight by doomed men; of magic that flowed through its very water, a fountainhead where one may attain eternal youth. And, of course, the tales of the _suck-you-byes_, female demons that weirdly and erotically occupied the last hours of men marooned on barren islands.

Sensing that the _Black __Pearl_'s quartermaster had swallowed enough liquor to quell his doubts, Ed Teach made his plea once more.

"Word is your captain is searching for a crew to help him get his ship afloat. Me and me men are willin' to sign on, and bring another dozen or two with us. All seasoned hands before the mast and hard working gents, the lot of 'em. All we be askin' in return is a share in that treasure Jack Sparrow's been seeking."

Gibbs, his mind fogged by both drink and exhaustion, weighed his options. Jack wouldn't be seekin' no treasure any time soon without first refittin' the _Pearl_. Best take the help offered and square the deal later, when the _Pearl_ were once again underway. Smiling and holding out his hand, Gibbs made a deal he would soon live to regret.

"We have an accord, Mister Teach."


	11. Chapter 10 Devils and Black Sheep

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 10 – Devils and Black Sheep

Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white,  
And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight;  
But rum alone's the tipple, and the heart's delight  
Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of fiddles, and a song well sung,  
And some are all for music for to lilt upon the tongue;  
But mouths were made for tankards, and for sucking at the bung,  
Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are sad and wretched folk that go in silken suits,  
And there's a mort of wicked rogues that live in good reputes;  
So I'm for drinking honestly, and dying in my boots,  
Like an old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

_ John Masefield_

xxxx

"Ever heard of a fellow calls himself Ed Teach?" Gibbs took a long pull from the bottle of rum he was sharing with Frank Davies, as the two men reclined in the shade of a cluster of palms, watching as the tide crept in.

"Big gent? Great bushy beard?" Davies took his own long swallow, sighing contentedly as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. He nodded his head towards the camp further down the beach. "Not much known about 'em. Heard tell he was a privateer, sailed with Jennings out of Jamaica durin' the war. Worked his way up to ship master 'fore the war ended." Davies took another swig and handed the bottle back, narrowing his eyes as he added, "Also heard he's an ambitious rogue, lookin' fer his own ship."

"Aye, was 'spectin' that," Gibbs said resignedly. "Came lookin' for me in particulars. Wantin' to sign on with his men." He gave the now empty bottle a pensive look. "Can't right find any others willin' to do the work."

Davies gave his old friend a sympathetic glance. "S'pose you'll be takin' him up on the offer, eh?" He shook his head and added, "Best be watchin' yer back, Josh."

Gibbs stood up and gazed at the sea, lost in thought. _Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Jack, he be in no state to be sailin' just yet, his mind still a muddle as it were. Don't be needin' a mutiny before ever setting sail. I'll just go tell that Teach gent 'no thank you'._

He turned and said aloud to Davies, "I'm thinkin' I might keep lookin' some more for a crew. Jack's got enough on his mind, with that female creature of his. Don't need t' be worryin' none 'bout losin' the _Pearl_ too."

Davies stood as well and dusted the sand off his breeches. Pulling out his pipe he set about filling it as he commented, "Offer still stands, could use a good first mate for the _Tess_. Enough gold ought t' get ye the crew ye need. No need t' be settlin' for rogues and scoundrels."

Gibbs nodded. "Aye. Jack's talking' about careening the _Pearl_. Once we have 'er ashore I might be willin' t' take you up on that offer. Ain't no one, don't care how conniving, can make off with a ship that's belly up."

Davies slapped his friend on the back and said heartily, "There's the truth of it! Tell ye what. I'll get some of me boys to help with the pulleys. 'Bout time they put their sorry carcasses to good use. The season is almost upon us; don't need no slackers on my ship." He clapped Gibbs on the back again and headed back towards the tents, shouting to his men as he went.

Gibbs watched him go, relieved yet worried, wondering just how he was going to break off the accord with Teach. _Well, best be on with it_. He turned and headed in the direction of the ex-privateer's camp, wishing he had a bit more rum with which to smooth the conversation.

xxxx

Jack Sparrow was getting claustrophobic.

"_Everywhere I turn," _he muttered to himself,_ "the blasted girl's right there, dogging me steps. Like a burr on a boar's ass, can't get five inches away. Worse than barnacles, like having an extra appendage. Wouldn't be so bad if she were inclined to use some of that closeness in a more intimate fashion. Confounded girl doesn't seem interested at all. No bloody telling why either. Not like we haven't sailed them waters. Haven't I been the perfect gentleman? Saving her from those crazy louts so keen on tossing her to the sharks? Ought to get a bit of something for me efforts. A bit of a thank you. Instead I get a shadow – touching what I touch, doing what I do. Bloody unnerving it is."_

Jack had retreated to the bow, slinking out onto the bowsprit, bottle of rum in one hand as he attempted to distance himself from his silent shadow. She in turn followed halfway, stretching out along the bowsprit on her belly, hands dangling below as if reaching for the figurehead. _Now what is she doing?_

Jack settled himself comfortably out of reach and swallowed some rum, pretending to ignore her while surreptitiously studying the girl through hooded eyes. She didn't seem to notice, her eyes fixed on the small bird in eternal flight. She opened her hand as if she were the one releasing it and then slowly closed her fist along with her eyes. A slow shudder went through her body, before she raised her eyes and caught him watching her. She repeated the motion with her hand, reaching for him only to close her fingers around emptiness.

A shadow crossed her face and tears welled in her eyes. A sudden gust of wind arose, causing the _Pearl _to move restlessly. The sky darkened as a summer squall blew in from the sea. Without further warning a drenching rain began pelting them. Jack scrambled down from his perch, helping the girl back on deck before heading for the shelter of his cabin.

For the first time that day she didn't follow. Heaving a big sigh he turned and went back out into the storm only to find her standing with eyes closed, arms stretched high, her face tilted towards the sky.

xxxx

The squall ceased almost as soon as it began. Gibbs, having taken shelter under a stand of trees until the rain stopped, reluctantly resumed trudging across the wet sand towards Teach's camp. He recognized a couple of the men from the tavern; nodding to them he said friendly like, "Lookin' for Ed Teach. Might you know where he's at?" The gent nearest to Gibbs inclined his head towards a tent further back near the dunes. Made out of an old canvas sail, the tent swayed, even though the winds from the passing storm had all but died down, leaving the air sultry and warm.

"Teach is what you might say, keepin' company. Won't take kindly to being disturbed."

A low grunting sound now accompanied the hypnotic movement of the tent. Gibbs had enough years on him to know the sound of rutting when he heard it. "Aye. Well, I best be leavin' him to his pleasures," Gibbs said, turning to go with a sigh of relief. One of the other men lazing around the camp spoke up. "No need to rush off. Never takes long with ol' Sadie."

As if on cue the swaying and grunting stopped and the flap of the curtain opened to reveal a head of tangled red hair, which turned out to belong to the buxom wench herself. She stood up and casually buttoned the front of her flimsy sweat-stained dress, her nipples straining against the thin fabric. Brushing her damp hair back from her face she strolled over to the campsite and, placing a hand on her hip, asked one of the men there for some rum.

Teach's gruff voice answered her. "Get yerself off now, Sadie. Ain't a charity ward I'm runnin'. Ye have yer bit o' shine. Go buy yer own drink."

"Well, don't be 'specting me to come runnin' next time you've got an itch to scratch, Ed Teach. There be plenty of other gents wantin' some as well. And none of 'em as cheap as you, either." Sadie tossed her head indignantly before flouncing off towards a camp further down the beach.

Teach just laughed and sauntered over to where Gibbs was standing, buttoning his breeches as he did. "Like a bitch in heat, that one. Can't be havin' yer crew all distracted now, can we?"

Gibbs cleared his throat, avoiding the burly man's eye. "Well, that be what I've come t' talk to you about," he said, cringing inwardly. "Seein' how it might be some time 'fore the _Pearl_ sails again, I thought it might be best to give you and yer boys the option of lookin' fer another berth."

Teach gave Gibbs a long look before speaking. "I ain't the type to renege on a bargain, once struck. Me and me gents are a patient lot, plenty of distractions here on New Providence to make the waitin' pleasant enough," he said, gesturing towards the redheaded Sadie as she plied her trade along the shore. Turning back towards Gibbs he added in an ominous tone, "You go tell that captain o' yours that 'fore long he'll be hard pressed findin' _any_ crew willing t' sign on for that little venture o' his."

xxxx

"Now, do me a favor and stay here," Jack said cheerfully, pointing with both hands towards the deck, "and ol' Jack will row over to the island and see about finding you something pretty to wear. What say you to that?" He cocked his head and flashed his most winning smile at the solemn girl standing in front of him. "Won't be long, couple of hours, maybe more. These things can take time you know. Might have to go into town, visit a few establishments, see what the latest fashions are…"

He gestured over at Cotton who was standing on the quarterdeck and said loudly, "Now don't go arguing with Mr. Cotton there. He'll be staying on board in case you need anything. Savvy?"

Before either of them could argue the point he quickly climbed down into the waiting boat. Marty took up the oars, a frown on his face. Jack settled in the stern, feeling as if a suffocating weight had been lifted from him. "What?" he asked innocently as Marty continued to glare at him. "Not like I'm abandoning her. Can't right let her walk around New Providence half naked. There'd be an uprising."

Marty grunted in agreement. "In more ways than one."

Jack didn't exactly like the idea of leaving the _Pearl _with just one man on night watch, but, in her present state, there wasn't much chance of someone trying to commandeer her. He figured he'd only be gone a short while, stretch his legs a bit. Jack further silenced the twinges of guilt he was feeling by the pleasant thoughts of a nice tankard of rum and a salty wench, one that might be willing to do more than follow him around like a puppy dog. Fortunately, both rum and wanton women could be found in abundance in this particular settlement. Eager with anticipation and feeling freer than he had in weeks, Jack was out of the boat before it reached the shore. He waded through the shallows towards the cook fires dotting the beach in the fading light.

Before he'd gone a dozen steps he heard his name being called. Jack's face blanched as he recognized the woman making her way towards him from a nearby encampment. She was wearing a purple dress, practically sheer, its light fabric clinging tightly to her large, melon-shaped breasts which swung unfettered as she walked, exuding sexuality with every step. She threw back her head of reddish hair; her face freckled from the sun, a large smile on her red lips. Once she was close enough she called out to Jack again.

"_Jack Sparrow_! Come back to pleasure ol' Sadie, have you?" She came up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck while pressing her body against his. Jack grimaced a smile as he tried to extract himself from her grasp.

"Well, actually I came lookin'…"

Sadie was clearly not one easily deterred though. She began kissing him, her arms and legs entwining him like a kraken. "I've missed ye, Jack. You promised you'd come back soon." She pouted. "It's been months."

"I was unforeseeably detained. Now if you'll excuse me…"

She ran her hand down the front of his shirt and grabbed his crotch. "I've learned some new tricks while you've been gone," she whispered, grinding her hips against him. "I could show them to you if you're interested."

Jack rolled his eyes and groaned, his interest most definitely aroused. Heaving a sigh of frustration, he managed to finally remove her from around his neck.

"Sorry, luv. Ol' Jack has a bit of business to tend to at the moment. You don't happen to know where I might find Frank Davies?"

Sadie shrugged her shoulders and wrapped a possessive arm around Jack's and pulled him towards the tree line. "What'ya want with that old blighter? Won't let his men have no fun t'all. You come with ol' Sadie, I'll show you a good time." Jack patted her on the bottom and slithered out from underneath her embrace. "Perhaps later, darling," he told her and made good his escape up the beach.

xxxx

The beachfront came alive as the sun, a molten ball of fire, sank into the sea. The men gathered around the cook fires, lounging and laughing as they passed bottles of rum and wine around. The musicians broke out their instruments and began to entertain; the women from the tents wandered down to find their own entertainment for the evening. The aroma from the cook pots mingled with the unwashed stench of the throng of men, tinged with the salty tang of the sea. The talk around the camps centered on the raid Jennings was planning, and Spanish gold. More gold than most had ever seen, just there for the taking. Many of the men had already signed with a crew, others were looking to sign, virtually no one wanted to be left out of the venture.

There were a few though, that had not found a berth. Among these were a small group of men camped apart from the main crowd. They sat hunched around their fire, silent and morose as they passed around a bottle of rum. The leader of this band of sullen men sat apart, staring murderously across the darkened bay, just able to discern the black ship anchored there.

He barely looked up at Sadie as she wrapped her arms around him and sidled into his lap. She intercepted the bottle, taking a swig or two before handing it back to him. "Why the glum face, Pete? Anything ol' Sadie can do to help?"

He drank some rum and said in a thoughtful voice, "Perhaps. Your special talents might be _just_ what we need tonight."

xxxx

The hour was late, that ungodly time betwixt midnight and dawn. Jack Sparrow groaned as he lay on a rough blanket in the soft sand, his breeches around his ankles, several empty rum bottles strewn around. His last recollection had been of sitting around the fire amidst the group of men gathered on the beach, drinking and singing and telling lies.

He hadn't meant to stay so long, but the rum had flowed freely and so had the women as they had circulated among the men, offering pleasure for a bit of shine. The last one had been Sadie – apparently determined to get her fair share of the action, she had dragged Jack off by the hand, promising paradise…and more.

Now, he woke alone, his head throbbing and his goods feeling as if they'd been gnawed clean off. Gingerly reaching down with one hand he heaved a sigh of relief to find his pertinent parts still intact, just sorely used. Struggling to sit up, the world began to spin out of control. He managed to pull his breeches up before collapsing once again in a dead sleep.

xxxx

The moon skulked over the water, a sliver of white casting a feeble light across the black mirror of the bay.The three men in the dingy rowed with muffled oars towards the dark ship anchored beyond the shoals. No lights shone on board, the ship itself in fitful slumber, her tresses in disarray. The small boat nestled up against the hull, its occupants slipping up the sea ladder, taking care not to make any noise that might alert those aboard the larger vessel.

The leader of these marauders peered cautiously over the starboard rail; gesturing to his cohorts that the way was clear, he slipped noiselessly aboard. The water lapping against the hull was the only sound, the two slumbering figures silent in their repose.

The interloper grinned maliciously as he observed the young woman curled up on deck upon a coil of rope. The steady rise and fall of her ribs signaled she was fast asleep, as was the elderly gent stretched out on a pile of ripped canvas, his mouth open in silent snores.

_I'll show the sea bitch what if feels like to be cast away_, he thought to himself, unsheathing the knife he carried on his belt. _Lost me place on Davies' crew due to this creature, me and his mates._ _Too hot headed he says._ _Now no one will take us on. We'd be goin' after all that gold if it weren't for this bunter. Well, I'll show them, they ain't heard the last of me. _

Gesturing towards the girl, he mouthed the words to his companions. "Hold her."

The others moved in unison, one grasping her arms, the other her legs as he took his knife and slit the girl's shirt open. Startled awake, the girl began to flail about. Unable to scream she fought back as best she could. Turning her head she sunk her teeth into the nearest arm.

"Fucking bitch!" The man wrestled his arm away from her, backhanding her across the face with enough force to knock her back several feet. The older gent, awakened by the cry struggled to come to her aid, his parrot squawking and fluttering overhead. The man who'd been holding the girl's feet pulled out his cutlass and struck a blow with the hilt, causing the old man to crumble to the deck, his head bleeding profusely across the weathered planks.

The ship, sensing the blood seeping outward, stirred restlessly, adding a swaying deck to the struggle going on. The girl had scrambled away and was frantically crawling amidst the tangle of lines and rigging where she became ensnared, like a moth in a spider's web. She quivered in horror as the menacing trio descended upon her. Their leader, a gleam of lust and madness in his eyes, slowly unbuttoned his breeches as the other miscreants pinned her helplessly to the deck.

"Heard yer a real _suck-you-bye_, y' black spawn," he leered as he freed his swollen cock and advanced on her. "Let's see here how y' like this up yer bung hole." He laughed at the terror on the girl's face, relishing the thought of ramming home his message. No need to worry about anyone showing up and stopping them this time, good ol' Sadie was seeing to that. With the old man out of the way as well, they had all night to slake their lust. They would all have a go at her until there was nothing left but raw flesh. A tasty treat for the sharks.

As he bent over the girl, the ship began to pitch, though the sky was clear and seas calm. Reaching out to steady himself he did not see the spar swinging wildly above him until it struck. Eyes wide in surprise he gurgled once as the jagged wood impaled him against the deck. His two companions, sensing the fury in the ship around them, gaped at their fallen compatriot, panic welling up in their throats as another loose spar barely missed them as it swung wildly about. Without another glance at the stricken man they made a mad dash for the rail, dodging falling debris as they clambered over the side. The _Pearl_ shuddered and bucked, throwing the two of them into the bay, their cries for help going unheard. Unable to swim, their last vision before the black water swallowed them was that of the merry revelers on shore and the menacing black hull of the angry ship above.


	12. Chapter 11 Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 11 – Dead Men Tell No Tales

Half-mast upon her flagstaff hung her flag;  
Word went among us how the broken spar  
Had gored her captain like an angry stag,  
And killed her mate a half-day from the bar.

She passed to dock along the top of flood.  
An old man near me shook his head and swore:  
"Like a bad woman, she has tasted blood--  
There'll be no trusting in her any more."

We thought it truth, and when we saw her there  
Lying in dock, beyond, across the stream,  
We would forget that we had called her fair,  
We thought her murderess and the past a dream.

And when she sailed again, we watched in awe,  
Wondering what bloody act her beauty planned,  
What evil lurked behind the thing we saw,  
What strength there was that thus annulled man's hand,

How next its triumph would compel man's will  
Into compliance with external fate,  
How next the powers would use her to work ill  
On suffering men; we had not long to wait.

_John Masefield_

XXXX

The bodies washed up with the morning tide.

In the faint glimmer of dawn the beachfront was quiet, its occupants still sleeping off the previous evening's libations. The waves that lapped softly against the shore did not disturb their slumber, nor did the cries of the seabirds dipping and swirling above the surf.

It was the scream that brought the bleary-eyed, rum-soaked men from their tents and to the water's edge, a dreadful cry, full of horror, the cause of this disturbance becoming apparent as they stumbled closer.

The bodies of two men, or what was left of them, lay tangled amidst the seaweed at the water's edge, their blood-drained corpses swaying in the gentle pull of the waves. One was but a torso, arms and legs severed, the other only half a man, the lower part gnawed away. Both still bore their heads and it was this that had caused the unfortunate woman who found them to scream in anguish, for not only were they a gruesome sight, she had know them.

The men added to the outcry, as they too recognized the ill-fated men.

"Saints preserve us! That's Grieves!"

"And Cassidy! Perish and plague me!"

"Looks like they might have washed in with the tide. Why in blazes would they be out in the water at night?"

"Imagine t'were sharks that got 'em. Gawd awful way t' go."

Frank Davies pushed his way through the crowd, Gibbs close on his heels. One of the men stopped him with a cautionary hand.

"Tis not a pretty sight, Frank."

Bracing himself, Davies stepped past the cluster of men at the shore, solemnly studying the grisly scene before turning away, visibly shaken at the fate of his two former crewmen.

"God's wounds," he uttered, running a hand through his gray streaked hair and looking around. "Who found 'em?"

Several of the men pointed in unison to the redheaded woman slumped miserably on the sand further up the beach, where she had retreated after retching violently.

"Heard Sadie there scream. Woke us and we come runnin' down here."

Davies walked up the beach to where Sadie sat huddled alone. He frowned and shook his head.

_For all the time she spends pleasuring 'em, you'd think one of 'em could of tried t' comfort her_.

Squatting down next to traumatized woman he placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Awful business, lass."

"It's all my fault, Frank!" she sobbed, looking up at his touch. "I should never agreed!"

She broke down again. "How were I to know?" she chanted, rocking and weeping.

The poor girl was obviously in shock, Davies thought, calling to someone to fetch a blanket, wrapping her in it and moving her away from the horrific scene towards one of the campfires.

Sadie, snuffling and wiping her eyes, gratefully accepting the cup of rum-laced coffee Davies offered her. He waited until she was calmer before questioning her.

"What was it you agreed to, lass?" He was frowning but kept his voice gentle.

She looked around fearfully. "Nothing."

Slowly regaining her composure, she clamped her lips tightly together and tossed back her hair. Finishing her drink she stood, casting an apprehensive glance down the beach toward the canvas-covered bodies.

"I best be getting' on," she said, nervously brushing her hair back and smoothing her rumbled skirt.

Davies stood as well and caught her by the arm, his grasp friendly but firm. "Before you go, why don't you tell me what you meant by it being yer fault?"

She ducked her head, not meeting his eyes and stammered a reply. "Nothing. I was thinking perhaps… but I was mistaken… wouldn't have mattered… no reason to think…"

Davies waited patiently, though did not let go of her arm. "What wouldn't have mattered?"

"It's nothing, I tell ye!" Sadie tried twisting her arm away. "Just something Pete said. Asked. A favor, he did. Paid me well fer it, too. Probably nothing to do with them two. Go ask Pete why they were out there on that ship…" She clasped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear.

"What ship?" Davies asked slowly.

A silent observer up to this point, Gibbs, glanced with concern across the bay, the ships there at anchor barely discernible in the early morning mist, recalling the two dead men had been among those that had accompanied them in Jack's rescue…and had tried to throw the strange girl off the sloop.

"Where might we find this Pete feller?" Gibbs demanded

Sadie pointed at a camp further down the beach. "Look, I ain't seen him since last night. No need to be holding me, I didn't do nothing." She wrenched her arm free and hurried away.

"She's frightened," Davies said, watching her go, "and not just about findin' them dead men. Mark me words, there's more to this than she's lettin' on."

XXXX

The incessant squawking woke Jack, his head aching as did his goods. Struggling to sit up, he batted away the bird as it fluttered in front of him.

"Would you shut it?!" He glared at the parrot perched on a tree stump nearby and grumbled, "Bloody feathered menace, making a ruckus loud enough to raise the dead, you foul-mouthed fowl."

The bird cocked its head. "Dead men tell no tales."

Jack hurled an empty bottle at it, only causing the bird to fly around before perching once again, this time on Jack's hat. "Dead men tell no tales!"

Jack stumbled to his feet and indignantly pulled his hat out from under the bird, placing it on his head as he made his way unsteadily towards the cover of brush to relieve himself. His smarting member brought back memories of another occasion and with that a twinge of guilt for leaving the girl alone for so long. He shrugged it off though as something not to be dwelt upon.

"Unforeseen circumstances, couldn't be helped," he reasoned with himself, gingerly tucking his guilt away and squaring his shoulders to greet the day.

"Jack! Thank the stars, there you are! We've been lookin' all over for you."

Jack frowned at this new source of noise, his head still pounding from the night's indulgence.

"No need to shout, Mister Gibbs. I still have me ears." Jack's irritation turned to concern as he saw the worried face of his quartermaster and the grim expression of Frank Davies behind him.

"Dead men tell no tales!" Cotton's parrot squawked, fluttering his feathers before flying off towards the bay.

"Something the matter, Mister Gibbs?" Jack asked, cringing slightly, a knot forming in his stomach.

"Couple of me men washed up with the tide." It was Davies that spoke up first. "Or what was left of 'em."

Jack relaxed slightly. "Oh. Not good. Sorry, mate."

Gibbs shook his head. "That's not the half of it, Jack. One of 'em is still missin'. Last seen heading for one of the ships in the bay. Seemed to have a bone to pick."

Davies nodded and added, "Might be best if we rowed out to the _Pearl_, checked on things as it were."

He spoke it to Jack's back, as he had come to the same conclusion and was already halfway down the beach.

XXXX

The boat seemed to crawl across the bay. Jack perched in the bow impatiently, grousing to Marty to row faster. Gibbs and Davies sat in the stern, grim expressions on their faces. Cotton's parrot, circling overhead only added to their feeling of foreboding. Jack was halfway up the sea ladder before the boat had come to a stop, scrambling onto the deck of the _Pearl_ only to be brought up short by the horrific sight before him.

"Mary, Mother of God," Gibbs said in a hushed voice.

Davies, climbing on board behind him, drew in a rasping breath. It was not a sight for the squeamish. The missing man was impaled upon the deck, a jagged spar running through him, embedded into the blood soak planks. His face was contorted with fear, mouth gaping open as if in mid-scream, his unfastened breeches telling the remainder of an ugly tale they all recognized. To one side, lying in another pool of blood, was Mister Cotton. Gibbs hurried over to him and bent down next to the old man.

"He's still breathing," he said with relief.

Jack was looking anxiously about, but there was no sign of the girl. Cursing himself for leaving her unprotected, he began frantically searching, stumbling across the debris strewn deck, the overpowering stench of blood filling his nostrils, fear gnawing at his gut.

"_She's got to be here, somewhere, please._" He scrambled over fallen yardarms and the tangle of shrouds and lines.

_Didn't seem too worried last night, Jackie._

_Couldn't wait to get away from her._

_Were you thinkin' of her while Sadie pleasured you?_

_All dead, Jackie. Same as before. All dead._

"NO!!" His shout startled the others, looking up in alarm as they tended the injured Cotton. Jack vehemently shook his head, his balled-up hands pressed against his temples as he continued to moan. "No! Not dead! Not true! Go away!"

Davies gave Jack a concerned look and quietly asked Gibbs, "How long's this been goin' on?"

Gibbs sighed and shook his head wearily. "Since we rescued him from Bedlam. Something happened to him, out there. Never did find out what. But he came back infested with them voices, can't seem t' escape 'em."

Jack had sunk to his knees and was now moaning softly, eyes screwed shut as if in agony.

_Girl trusted you, to keep her safe._

_Keep her safe, keep her safe…_


	13. Chapter 12 The Night Watch

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 12 – The Night Watch

--

Beneath the midnight moon of May,  
Through dusk on either hand,  
One sheet of silver spreads the bay,  
One crescent jet the land;  
The black ship mirrored in the stream  
Her ghostly tresses shake--  
When will the dead world cease to dream?  
When will the morning break?

Beneath a night no longer May,  
Where only cold stars shine,  
One glimmering ocean spreads away  
This haunted life of mine;  
And, shattered on the frozen shore,  
My harp can never wake,--  
When will this night of death be o'er?  
When will the morning break?

_ William Winter – The Night Watch_

XXXX

The room is filled with lingering shadows, punctuated by pools of molten light emanating from thick tallow candles scattered throughout the interior of the shack. An assortment of oddities sway from the soot-blackened rafters, curiosities to entice the curious. Like a spider patiently poised in her web, the obeah woman crouches at the worn wooden table that dominates the center of the room. Before her lay the tools of her trade – brightly colored feathers and rags, fish bones and sharks' teeth, egg-shells, and sea shells. In the midst of these sits a bottle, its interior filled with a smoke-like substance. The woman picks up the bottle and swirls the contents, her eyes as dark as the smoke within. Placing the bottle carefully down she shuffles a well-worn deck of cards and begins to turn them face up, reciting softly.

"Ten of Swords, death. Three of Swords, death. Two of Swords, death. The Chariot. Death. The Tower. Death."

She shakes her head ruefully and knows it is only a matter of time before they come. Tia Dalma laments Jack Sparrow's fate revealed in the cards laid out before her.

XXXX

"Infested, I tell ye. Couldn't rid meself of 'em," Ed Teach grumbled. "Them ghosts were troubling me pretty bad then, was havin' a rum-and-gunpowder two, three times a day."

From where he stood, hovering over Jack, Gibbs could see the whole group. Teach lounged by the fire, his men scattered about him. Frank Davies sat off to one side, acknowledging Teach's words with an occasional grunt, while keeping a concerned eye on Jack Sparrow. Jack himself crouched on the sand just beyond the firelight, rocking and crooning softly. Gibbs' gut twisted as he surveyed his captain. _Poor blighter._

"Finally got me a_ bokor_, who found me an obeah man to _ex-or-cise_ 'em. Chased 'em clean out of me." Teach swallowed a mouthful of rum then spat in the sand. He nodded towards Jack and said bluntly, "Infested, I tell ye. 'Bout the only way to get rid of 'em, I know of."

Gibbs cringed inside. He only knew of one obeah – _Her_. It appeared they'd be havin' to travel upriver after all.

He gave Teach a suspicious glance, wondering about the fellow's sudden interest in Jack. _Shifty bastard, up to no good, from the looks of it. Best be keeping a weather eye on him. _

Teach leaned back on one elbow, blatantly adjusting his goods as he idly scanned the shore. He looked to Gibbs to be having an itch that needed some scratching. As if to confirm his suspicions, Teach mused aloud, "Wonder where ol' Sadie's keepin' herself these days."

"Ain't seen a lick of her since that mornin' she found them bodies," one of his men volunteered.

"Scared, I reckon," another added.

"Feared of retribution, I 'magine."

"Heard that bokor of yers made 'em all zombies," another man said in a hushed tone.

Teach laughed, a low rumble that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Been listenin' t' too many of them ghost stories. Wouldn't do that bokor much good havin' zombies with no limbs, now would it?" He glanced over at Davies and amended his statement. "My 'pologies, Frank. Oughtn't be talkin' 'bout the dead so."

Davies shook his head. "It ain't zombies frightenin' Sadie." He gazed out at the dark waters of the bay, the demarcation of sea from shore barely discernable in the faint shimmer of moonlight. Taking a long draw on his pipe he added thoughtfully, "Somethin's spooked that girl right enough. But I'll be a dog if I know what is."

Gibbs frowned, a feeling of unease settling over him. _Sadie weren't the only one gone missin'. Never did find that girl of Jack's, either. It were as if the sea had gone and swallowed her up._

XXXX

"Reckon he'll come out of it this time?" Davies asked Gibbs quietly, glancing over at Jack, with a look of concern in his eyes. The hour was late, yet Jack continued to hum and rock, as if on a ship, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes staring straight ahead.

The two men were sitting off to one side, conversing in low tones so as not to awaken the snoring men around him.

"Thought we'd weathered all this, 'fore we left port." Gibbs sighed and ran his hand across his face. "Ol' Jack was a right mess when we pulled him from that hellhole in Curaçao. Took us weeks to get him back to himself, for a time it seemed the only souls could reach 'im were AnaMaria and the _Pearl._" He gazed out across the dark water and added, "Don't seem t' be an option this time."

"What in the devil's name happened out there I wonder?" Davies mused, glancing once more over at Jack, adrift in his own world.

"Ne'er did find out the truth of it." Gibbs shook his head and leaning forward, continued in a low and ominous voice. "Jack had, what you might say, gone solo for a bit, off on a venture with a feller named Black Bellamy and his crew…a truly unsavory lot they were too. Were as if Jack were expectin' the worse. Left the _Pearl_ in my care 'fore he sailed, told me to keep 'er safe and the crew happy 'til he sent word. So we dropped anchor at a nearby port and took a leisurely shore leave. Didn't worry too much 'til I heard that tale of the ghost ship bein' found with only one living soul left aboard."

Davies pulled out his pipe and tobacco, taking his time filling and lighting it before replying. "Must have been somethin' mighty enticing t' lure Jack off with them base-souled blackguards. Heard tell they'd cut out yer liver and sell it t' yer mother as soon as look at you." He took a long draw on his pipe and added, "Also heard they all perished, the lot of 'em, somewhere out past the Leewards. Locals found their bodies washed ashore, much like them men of mine, t'weren't much left there t' bury. Only t'weren't sharks that got 'em. Word is they'd been long dead 'fore they entered the water."

Gibbs nodded. "That ship they found Jack on were covered in blood, stem to stern. Something strange happened out there, mark my words, some unearthly fate befell that crew."

The two men lapsed into contemplative silence, the night air still, save for the murmuring of the sea along the shore and the sonorous sound of the men scattered about. Lost in his own tumult of worries, Gibbs didn't notice until hours later that Davies was still awake as well, his own brow furrowed in thought. It was almost dawn before Gibbs was able to fall into an uneasy sleep, Jack's faint crooning lending an eerie lullaby.

XXXX

Her small turtling shallop rounded Hog Island and entered Nassau Harbor on the morning tide. AnaMaria and her cousins, no strangers to the town having grown up on nearby Eleuthera, were making their usual monthly run to New Providence to unload their catch and pick up supplies. She tacked in towards shore and the rickety wharf jutting out into the blue-green water of the bay. Despite the earliness of the hour the dock was already teeming with activity as the local fishermen prepared their nets and readied their boats.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Ana, as the smaller boat made its way round one of the larger vessels at the mouth of the harbor, revealing the assortment of ships and sloops anchored beyond.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est? What is it?" Her cousin Pierre looked out towards where she was staring.

"The _Black Pearl_." AnaMaria pointed at the broken ship sitting like a pariah some distance away from the other vessels in the bay. "The stories _were_ true, then."

Her heart felt heavy in her chest as they drifted past the tattered remains of her former ship. Ana remembered with dismay her feeling of foreboding the last time she'd seen Jack Sparrow, that day on the docks. All those weeks she'd spent trying to reach him, to bring him back to a semblance of sanity, turned out to be all for naught. For once he'd regained his senses, he'd lost them again apparently, sailing headlong into a hurricane, only to be swallowed by the sea.

AnaMaria angrily wiped a tear away and clenched her fists, fighting the ever-growing sickness in the pit of her stomach. The taverns had been abuzz with the news that Jack Sparrow had met his demise off the coast of Florida. For all the times he'd courted danger and flirted with disaster, Jack had always seemed to lead a charmed life, managing to escape his many close encounters unscathed. Not this time it appeared. Ana had allowed herself to hope that the stories had not been true. She swore softly to herself, the ugly feeling of remorse creeping up and taking hold of her.

_If only_. If only she'd not been so stubborn and let Jack sail away without her, refusing his offer to join the crew. If only she'd been on board during the storm, talked some sense into him, perhaps she could have made him see reason and change course. If only she'd told him, all those times when they laid together in the dark, those moments of stillness after furious passion, if only she'd told Jack how she'd truly felt. If only she'd been able to set aside her fears of losing him long enough to realize that one could never completely hold on to a quicksilver, free-spirited soul such as Jack, but instead had allowed those fleeting moments they'd shared to become whole by being truthful with him. _If only_…

"Ana? Êtes-vous d'accord?" Pierre was standing there, a puzzled look on his face. He put a hand out and touched her shoulder. "Perhaps the stories, they are not true. Peut-être?"

Ana shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she squared her shoulders. "Perhaps." She turned and busied herself with mooring the boat, angry at herself for her display of weakness. All's well to lament the past, but there was nothing she could do about it now, and no reason to be crying over what couldn't be changed. This was exactly what she'd always feared, and Ana couldn't bear to contemplate her loss. Not at the moment at least. Perhaps later, alone, she would allow herself to grieve.

XXXX

"Blessed sweet Westerlies, it's Ana!" Gibbs exclaimed, weaving his way through the throng of fishermen plying their wares along the dock. He reached the petite woman and started to clap her on the back, refraining at the last minute and thrusting out his hand instead. "You're a sight for sore eyes, to be sure!" He vigorously shook her hand, beaming a heartfelt smile.

"Mr. Gibbs," AnaMaria replied, her demeanor more subdued. "I want to tell you how sorry…" She was interrupted by Gibbs, his relief apparent in his voice.

"Jack is needin' you mighty fierce, Ana. Thank the Lord you've come!"

Ana swallowed, not believing her ears, afraid to ask. "Jack? Jack Sparrow?" She finally managed to choke out the words.

"Aye, Jack. Don't tell me you've gone and forgot him already?" Gibbs was almost bouncing in his eagerness, and began to drag Ana off down the wharf. "He's a bit worse for wear, had him a bit of what you might call a relapse, but I'm sure you can put him right, like last time, all he needs…"

Ana cut through Gibbs' babbling, her tone sharp with disbelief. "Jack is _alive,_ you say?" Her heart was racing, hoping she'd heard correctly.

Gibbs stopped up short, nodding his head. "Aye," he repeated. "We fetched him back from Florida just last week, but he's had a bit of a bad spell since."

"Bad spell," Ana repeated, suddenly cold. She did not like the sound of that.

"I'll explain it as we go," Gibbs said, taking her by the arm again. "But it'd be best we make haste, don't like the thought of leavin' him alone fer too long."

The two of them hurried down the beach towards a camp further up by the dunes. Ana's heart was pounding and her palms sweating, the joy of hearing Jack had survived overshadowed by the fear of Jack's state of mind.

"Thank goodness, he's still here," Gibbs sighed in relief. Jack, no longer humming, was now completely still, his face tilted towards the sea breeze, a faraway look in his eyes. Frank Davies unfolded his lean frame from where he'd been sitting watch over Jack and made his way across the remaining stretch of sand, a smile on his weathered face.

"AnaMaria! It's been too long." He shook hands with her and nodded his head towards Jack. "You'll be the best thing for him I'd venture, besides the _Pearl_ being whole again."

AnaMaria thanked him, and swallowing hard, slowly approached Jack. Seeing him in this state brought memories flooding back. _I should never have left him_.

Squatting down, she laced her fingers in his and closed her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest. She murmured a silent prayer of thanks for seeing her friend once again. Ana didn't speak, just held Jack's hand, waiting to see if he'd recognize her. For the longest time there was no change. Then, an almost imperceptible pressure against her fingers.

"Jack," she said softly, "Jack, it's Ana." She caught her breath, was that a glimmer of recognition in his eyes? "Jack, let me take you to the _Pearl_," she continued, this time being rewarded with a slow smile at mention of his ship. Encouraged, she stood and held out her hand to him. "Come with me, Jack. Let me take you home."

He stood then, and docilely followed her down to the water's edge, where Marty was waiting with a boat. She held Jack's hand in her lap on the way, wondering what her reception would be. The sea could be a jealous mistress, and so could the _Pearl_, if she wished.

XXXX

Ana surveyed the damage to the ship, amazed that any of the crew had survived. Gibbs had quickly filled her in on their way from the dock – how they'd thought Jack lost; how Davies had convinced him to sail to Florida, and how they'd miraculously found Jack again. He made brief mention of the unfortunate incident that had caused Jack's relapse, not going into details beyond the fact that a man had been killed by freak accident on board the _Pearl_. Ana had sensed Gibbs was withholding something, but in her relief to find Jack alive she'd allowed it to pass; there would be time later to find out the whole story.

Ana glanced over at Jack at the helm. His manner had changed when they'd boarded the ship – his eyes no longer dull, he stood, hands resting lightly on the wheel, head cocked and nodding as if listening. A twinge of jealousy caught Ana by surprise. She tried to shrug it off, but it kept nagging at her all day, the fact that the _Pearl_ was able to elicit a response from him where she had failed.

Later that evening, she convinced Jack to leave the helm, gently taking his hands and leading him below, wanting more than a passive role in his recovery. Caught unprepared at the ferocity of her emotions, Ana led Jack over to his bunk, removing his clothing with hurried hands, eagerly searching for bare skin in the soft glow from the lanterns. Not knowing what was possessing her, Ana was consumed with a desire to lay with him, to take Jack and make him her own. He didn't protest as she pushed him downward onto the bunk, shedding her own clothing as she maneuvered herself on top of him.

Ana had always dreamt of this, the chance to have her way with him, to take him at her own will, in her own time. Jack's body responded to her touch, hardening beneath her hand though his thoughts seemed elsewhere. Frustrated, Ana cried out in torment at not being able to reach his mind. She descended upon him then, devouring him in a lust filled rampage of unsated needs.

She was suddenly aware of Jack's eyes, ablaze with hunger watching her as she rode the crest of her pent-up desire. Straddling him she took him with reckless abandonment, he in turn responding with ferocity to match her own. As she reached her climax Ana cried out, a feral cry of triumph escaping her lips, the sweet slickness of his release running freely down her sweat-drenched skin.

"_Mine_," Ana whispered to the blackened beams above her head, smiling as she possessively wrapped herself around the now passive man at her side.

_He's mine._

XXXX

The water around the black ship swirled, white tipped waves forming beneath her bow. The ship tossed restlessly, straining at her mooring lines, tugging impatiently. In the inky blackness of the sky above, the clouds gathered ominously, a low rumbling preceding their rapid journey across the bay. Without preamble the rain fell, cold and harsh against the bloodstained wood of the deck, washing away all evidence, cleansing the ship of her sins.

Below, in the cozy, candle-lit shelter of the cabin, Jack and Ana lay together, their bare limbs entwined, the stiffening breeze cooling their fevered skin, oblivious to the tempest raging without.

Storm tossed, the _Pearl_ shook her ravaged tresses in indignant fury, seeking completion, seeking recompense. Her time would come again.


	14. Chapter 13 Twelve Hours of the Night

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 13 – Twelve Hours of the Night

…And a river lies  
Between the dusk and dawning skies,  
And hours are distance, measured wide  
Along that transnocturnal tide--  
Too doomed to fear, lost to all need,  
These voyagers blackward fast recede  
Where darkness shines like dazzling light  
Throughout the Twelve Hours of the Night.

_ William Ashbless_

--

**Six Months Earlier…**

The old man sat alone in the back of the tavern, gnarled hands resting on a battered walking stick. He appeared to be an old sailor, skin wrinkled and leathery from the sun, the stubble on his chin as white as the hair on his head. No one in the tavern paid him heed; he'd been sitting there for as long as anyone could remember. Occasionally a newcomer would buy the old seadog a tot of rum or a tankard of ale. In return he would tell the same yarn to anyone willing to listen. Most laughed his story off, a far fetched tale of an uncharted island where the undead roamed.

One night a sailor had bought him a mug of rum in return for the tale. He was a daft type of fellow with beads in his hair, and he had listened without interruption until the old salt had finished. Seeing that the stranger believed him, the old man had offered to give up the bearings for another tankard of rum. The younger man had agreed and returned with an entire bottle which he proceeded to share with the old man. The sailor had left that night, the bearings to the island safely tucked inside his pocket.

The next morning, the old man was found lifeless, still sitting propped against the wall of the tavern. Some say, that having finally passed on the cursed knowledge, he'd been freed to move on to the next world.

--

"There's not a bloody thing wrong with me! Unless you count bein' pestered into everlasting perdition by me bloody crew!" Jack was striding back and forth across the deck of the _Pearl_, waving his arms for emphasis. He whirled, eyes wide in exasperation at the two crew members who'd been dogging his steps. "Mister Gibbs! I don't need a bloody shadow, I need me ship repaired! Don't tell me you've not found me a crew yet?"

Gibbs stopped up short, shuffling his feet and avoiding Jack's eye. "Well, Cap'n," he began sheepishly, "it's just that pickings are a bit slim, what with the treasure camp venture and such. Most men have already signed onto a ship. And now, with the rumors…"

Jack narrowed his eyes and said slowly, "Rumors, you say. And just what might these rumors be, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs clamped his lips tight and gave AnaMaria a beseeching look. She was standing next to him, arms crossed, a scowl on her face.

"That you're possessed with ghosts, for one." She was tapping her foot, chin jutted out in defiance. "And the way you've been actin' I'd say them rumors are true."

Jack glared back. "Is that so? Is _that_ what you think?" He minced his way across the deck, leaning down so he was eye to eye with her. She stood her ground, eyes unwavering. Jack curled his mouth into a smile that was more of a snarl, teeth bared as he added, "Could have fooled me, all these nights. Seems to me _you_ were the one doing the possessing."

He smiled in satisfaction as he saw his barb hit home. Ana averted her eyes and turned her back on him, stalking over to the rail. Jack waved his hand towards her in a dismissive fashion then turned back to Gibbs, continuing with his rant. "I want a _crew_, Mister Gibbs. Not tomorrow, not next week, _today_. If the job is too difficult for you, perhaps I ought to be looking for a new quartermaster."

Jack spun around and stomped off to his cabin, slamming the doors with finality.

--

AnaMaria and Gibbs didn't say much to each other on their way to shore. Ana, her feelings still smarting from Jack's remarks had made her decision. Whatever was vexing Jack this time was beyond her help.

Ed Teach was waiting when they pulled their boat up on the beach. Gibbs rolled his eyes and said quietly to AnaMaria, "That's the gent I spoke of. I'm a feared he's wantin' more than a berth on the _Pearl_."

Ana gave the black-bearded giant of a man a long look. "Says he knows how to cure Jack?" she asked Gibbs. "Well, I say you take 'im up on the offer. Or find you another captain to sail with. Serve Jack right, if you ask me."

Gibbs gave her a startled look and asked, "What about you? You're not goin' t'abandon Jack again, are you?"

Ana threw back her shoulders. "What about me? I've got me a good business turtling. I don't need to sign on to a fool's venture such as this." She saw the dismay in Gibbs' eyes and softened her tone. "Listen, I tried, all right? But it's lookin' like Jack doesn't need my help. Or want it. There's somethin' more he's missin' this time, somethin' more that's not mine to give." She gathered her belongings out of the boat and bid him farewell. "Good luck to you, Gibbs. Heaven knows you'll need it."

She didn't wait for him to answer, just shouldered her bundle and marched up the beach towards where her cousins were waiting on the dock, berating herself silently for ever thinking she could make things right.

At first it had seemed that Jack had welcomed her advances, each evening allowing her to show him the depth of her affection. But with a returning sense of awareness had come a bitter Jack, an angry one that chafed at her attention. Their last night together had been one of tension, with Jack drinking heavily and taking her with alarming fierceness, almost as if she were more foe than friend. There had been no love in his eyes, no sign of anything except the need for physical release.

She felt almost relieved to escape. Yet, her heart grieved, as if Jack had died all over again. And in many ways, at least in her mind, he had.

--

"Heard yer still in need of a crew." Teach was leaning against an upturned boat, picking his teeth with a knife. He spat and slipped the knife back in his boot, nodding his head towards several of his men loitering nearby. "Perhaps me and the boys ought t' just row out and introduce ourselves proper."

Gibbs shook his head, weary of trying to protect Jack. _Damn fool, I'll be a blind beggar if I knows what's gotten into him. It's as if he were deliberately courtin' disaster. _Resigning himself to either accepting their offer or finding another berth, Gibbs sighed and said, "Jack's a wantin' to careen the _Pearl _on the next tide. If you've men enough to handle the work, I'll see t' getting' 'em signed on."

Teach smiled, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He spat again and hitched up his breeches. "Lead on, Mister Gibbs. I've a dozen or more men willin' to tackle this job… and more."

Gibbs cringed inside. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

--

Careening a ship was a laborious and tedious job, a chore most mariners dreaded, but absolutely necessary for the well-being of any wooden ship sailing in the warm tropical waters of the Caribbean. Besides the usual buildup of algae and barnacles, and holes bored by sea worms, the _Black Pearl_ had also been buffeted by heavy winds and waves during the hurricane. A proper assessment of damages and overhaul of her hull was essential.

The first order of business, before careening a vessel, was to offload as many heavy items as practical, and lash down whatever would be left on board. An added complication with the _Pearl_ was the broken spars and rigging littering the decks. A sizeable clean-up needed to be done before careening could actually take place.

Jack Sparrow was determined not to linger longer than necessary in New Providence. His recollection of the past few weeks was hazy at best, so he now focused his mind on the one thing he did recall, the loss of precious time. First order of business was to find a crew, preferably seasoned men capable of undertaking the onerous task ahead.

Later that afternoon, Gibbs stood alongside Jack as he warily eyed the new crewmen lined up along the chaotic decks of the _Pearl_.

"Who the hell are they?" he muttered, leaning close to Gibbs' ear.

"The crew ye sought."

Jack's scowl grew deeper as he peered at the apparent leader of the group from a distance. "Who's that?"

"Ed Teach," Gibbs answered eagerly.

"What do you know of 'im?"

Gibbs shrugged, shifting uneasily under Jack's glare. "Fair enough sort; seen 'im about afore."

Jack's eyes narrowed in evaluation, the frown lines between his eyes deepening. "Don't like 'im….him or none o' them."

"As I tried to tell ye, Cap'n, what with the treasure and all, Teach 'ere and his men are about all that's available."

"And if they're such bloody able hands, why are they still standing about on a beach?" Jack asked heatedly. He paused, staring thoughtfully, but still somewhat distracted. "Nope, still don't like 'em. See that spot right there?"

Gibbs cautiously followed Jack's finger to a place just behind his left ear. "Aye."

"Well, it itches!" The dangles in Jack's beard bobbed with belligerence. "Somethin' bad's always happens when that spot itches."

Pivoting on his heel, Jack paced several more times before the line of men, heaving a surrendering sigh as he finally halted before Gibbs. "If they are what they are, then they're what we're needin'. Very well, then, Mister Gibbs, let's get to work."

--

The leader of the group wasted no time in gaining Jack's approval. Almost as soon as they'd signed the articles, Teach had his men chopping and clearing away the tangle of shrouds and lines. He sent his more agile men aloft to saw away the remains of the topgallants and clear the way for repairing the broken masts. The rest of his men busied themselves with freeing the rigging, salvaging what they were able.

Teach sent several of his men to scour the harbor to find what usable materials they could from the derelict shells of abandoned prizes that littered the beaches and bay. From a French merchantman that had taken a holing too large to patch, they were able to recover the two top masts they needed; from a Portuguese schooner, an assortment of pulleys and blocks, as well as valuable lengths of line.

Jack became more animated as repairs progressed, supervising every move. Hands waving and voice raised, he flitted from man to man making sure everything was done to his exact specifications. With the repairs above the waterline well underway, the time came to inspect the what damage might lurk below.

In order to careen a vessel as large as the _Pearl_, they would need to work with the tide, bringing her as far up the shallow inlet as possible during its highest point and allowing her to naturally run aground on the sandy bottom as the tide receded. A complicated set of careening pulleys would then be used to haul the ship over on her side, exposing her massive underbelly so that she could be scraped and repaired.

--

"Well, his men are working well enough," Gibbs reported one morning as Jack circled in agitation. "We've decided—what with bein' short-handed n' all—we'd just roll most o' the guns to the down-side. Teach lined up a couple o' barges, to off-load the rest. He's got two parties out a-gatherin' rushes for the breamin' faggots and 'as the tackles already set so's they can work without fear o' fallin' off."

"Might over-eager aren't they?"

Gibbs lifted one shoulder and let it fall, uncertain if Jack was just being his recent

cantankerous-self, or if he really did sense a problem. He couldn't say he disagreed with Jack. There was something a might disquieting about the lot o' them. He'd seen vultures waiting for a dog to die with less light in their eyes.

"Jest what's a-needin' to be done."

Pausing, Jack ran a gentle hand along the nearby balustrade to the quarterdeck, his eyes going dark and distant. "Nasty business," he murmured, leaving Gibbs to wonder.

Finally, Jack looked up, his countenance brightening slightly. "This is where you discover 110 feet of ship means 220 feet to clean." He exhaled, long and heavy, almost as if surrendering. "Very well, then. Just make sure they don't set the bloody thing on fire. She's been through enough. Fire isn't exactly her friend."

"Teach and his men done this a time or two," Gibbs pointed out. "They'll be knowin' what's to be done."

A visible mood-change overtook Jack as he scanned the beach. "Seen Sadie, lately?" He shifted uneasily, tugging at the front of his breeches. "That woman's usually like slime on a fish."

"Haven't seen her….or the girl," Gibbs added circumspectly. "You feelin' the need?" Seemed a little premature to him, seein's how AnaMaria had barely left, but he'd learned long ago not to question a man's tastes.

"Hmm…well, mebbe…either." Finally, Jack turned, flapping a dismissive hand. "Just seems longer than it's been, that's all."

Nothing more was mentioned about Sadie. Or the girl for that matter, an oddity considering the lengths Jack had gone to protecting her. Very odd indeed.

--

The _Spread Eagle_ pub sat crouched at the end of a dark, seedy alley, a weathered wooden building over which a peeling sign creaked in the sultry air. Years of blistering sun and tropical rains had all but obliterated the original painting; what could have once been a majestic eagle now vaguely resembled a plucked goose. The sound of merriment along with feeble candlelight trickled out into the night from the tavern's front door, propped open in hopes of a cooling breeze.

The room was not crowded, this particular inn catered to a more selective cliental. For a price one could buy any sort of pleasure imaginable, for a higher price even the unimaginable was for sale. Negotiations were handled by the proprietor, Billy Hawkins, a balding, heavy set man with thick jowls and an even thicker Cockney accent.

In a far corner Sadie sat perched on the lap of what she hoped would be her final client for the evening, a fat English fop from the town proper, looking for the type of entertainment not available from the more mainstream establishments along the waterfront. His tastes were not as provincial, he was explaining, as he fondled her breasts. Sadie was only half listening to him, mentally tallying her take for the night.

_Two shillings for lettin' that bloody merchant pleasure himself while watching me do the same. Didn't even have to let 'em touch me. And that clergyman, gave me five to let him stripe me. Friggin' hypocrite was creaming his breeches on the second swing. Got me another five for doin' the same to 'im. Enough t' pay me lodgin' for the night. But not fer passage off this wretched island._

She shifted her weight so that her leg pressed tightly against the bulge in the fat man's breeches. She eyed him with a practiced eye. All trussed up in brocade and silk, a portly red faced gent with a ridiculous wig. Fripperies that would make a Tortuga whore green with envy. Sadie wasn't interested in fripperies though, just cold hard currency. This might just be her ticket out of paradise. She gave a well practiced moan as he suckled her breast, her mind elsewhere, her eyes scanning the dimly lit, smoke filled room.

_Two weeks in this hellhole, two weeks of hidin' and runnin'. No way they'd find me here, couldn't rub two pence together to afford the rum, let alone the girls. Weren't as if I were makin' meself rich on the beach, half the time barely getting' a bite to eat. Can't blame me for takin' Pete up on 'is offer. Gave me half a crown just to keep ol' Jack Sparrow from returnin' to his ship. Can't say I minded the job, not one bit. Didn't know what they were up to, did I? How was I to know? Serves the bitch right though, heard she drowned with the rest of 'em._

The dandy whispered in her ear, interrupting her train of thought. Frowning, Sadie stood up, not sure if she'd heard the man correctly.

_Two guineas? Hell, she'd fuck her mother for that much. He weren't askin' that, though, were he? Just lookin' for a few new perversions, nothin' ol' Sadie couldn't handle… 'specially for that sort of money . And if she played it right, she could nip ol' Billy right out of the profits. Cut out the middleman as it were._

Leaning provocatively over, pressing her sweaty bosom close to the man's face, Sadie breathed softly, her lips hot against his fleshy cheek. "What do you say to lettin' ol' Sadie take care of arranging things? Ol' Billy he'll be wantin' no part of what you're asking, gov'nor. Not for a mere two guineas." She licked her red lips and nipped at his plump earlobe with her sharp little teeth. "I know where there's a fresh one, not even a day old. Young one too." She ran a hand down his ample belly, feeling his excitement as she described the other woman. "Right pretty one, all curves and tits. Think of it gov'nor, them plump, white thighs pressed around your face. You can do anything ye wish to 'er…_anything_! Not like she'll be complaining none."

He licked his lips eagerly in anticipation, while running his hand along the inside of Sadie's thigh. She encouraged him, massaging his growing interest with one hand while dipping her other in his coat pocket, the bulge of his money bag giving her a greater thrill than the one in his breeches.

Arrangements were made to meet later that evening, at the old graveyard outside of town. She had managed to get the foppish fool so worked up that, in his eagerness to meet her there, he never noticed her palm his money bag. Sadie, for her part, had no intentions of honoring their agreement. She waited patiently, biding her time before slipping out the side door while Billy was fetching another keg from the cellar.

--

The path was barely discernable; the clouds scudding across the night sky blotted out what feeble light the thin slice of moon provided. Sadie didn't need the light to find her way though; it was a path she'd taken dozens of times in the past week. She hurried through the steamy thickness of the jungle, the air hot and torrid, the seeping smell of rotting vegetation and stagnant water filling her nostrils, her hair hanging in damp tresses about her face. Rivulets of sweat crept down her back and between her breasts. Her thin dress clung to her skin. All she wanted to do was put as much distance between her and that graveyard where that perverted fool was waiting for her.

_I might fuck my grandmother for two guineas. But I ain't fuckin' no dead person. Nor watchin' that blubbery sorry excuse for a man doin' it either. Wantin' a woman he can do whatever he wants to. Without payin' her either. Cheap bastard, he can fuck that dead bitch all he wants, ol Sadie ain't watchin'. _

Sadie knew of the bokor who'd been raisin' the dead – zombies – to do the bidding of those willing to pay the price. This included providing women for the more perverse of Billy Hawkins' cliental. The fresher the corpse, the better the price. Sadie also knew the sudden increase of mysterious deaths among young women on the island was no coincidence. She had no plans to become one of them. Her aim was to barter passage on the first ship putting this wretched island to its rudder.

Sadie didn't notice it at first, the sound blending in with the night voices of the swamp. It wasn't until she paused to catch her breath that she became aware of a hot, panting sound somewhere in the darkness behind her. Sadie held her breath, straining to hear above the pounding of her heart. There. A low guttural sound, primal, unearthly, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to prick up. She suddenly realized she was shaking, the clinking of the coins in her pocket echoing loudly through the night air.

Panic set in and she turned and began to run blindly along the path. She stumbled along through the tangle of vines and palmettos, mindless in her frantic flight of the scratches they inflicted on her bare legs and arms. Gasping for breath, her breasts heaved against her sweat-soaked dress as she finally staggered into a clearing where a small palm-thatched hut huddled in the darkness.

In the pale light of the moon she could make out the hovel where the local obeah man lived. The trees around the perimeter were festooned with bits of broken glass and other objects that tinkled a soft melody in the breeze. In front of the shack a darker shadow crouched, bent over a prone figure in the sand. It shifted, raising its head and stared directly at Sadie, eyes glimmering green in the moonlight.

Sadie screamed. And screamed. The figure in front of her was that of a young woman, blood dripping from her mouth and hands, the disemboweled body of the obeah man at her feet. Turning to flee, Sadie's last thoughts were that she'd been wrong. The girl had not drowned after all.


	15. Chapter 14 Covetous Intent

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 14 - Covetous Intent

Then they that found good liquor,  
They drank it not alone,  
And they that found fair plunder,  
They told us every one,  
About our chosen islands  
Or secret shoals between,  
When, weary from far voyage,  
We gathered to careen.

There burned our breaming-fagots  
All pale along the shore:  
There rose our worn pavilions --  
A sail above an oar:  
As flashed each yeaming anchor  
Through mellow seas afire,  
So swift our careless captains  
Rowed each to his desire.

There walks no wind 'neath Heaven  
Nor wave that shall restore  
The old careening riot  
And the clamorous, crowded shore --  
The fountain in the desert,  
The cistern in the waste,  
The bread we ate in secret,  
The cup we spilled in haste.

-- _Rudyard Kipling_

The careening process had gone without a hitch. After battening down the gun ports and other openings to prevent the ship from flooding and securely lashing any heavy objects that hadn't been off-loaded, they moved the _Black Pearl_ as far up the shallow inlet as possible on the high tide and then watched as she was slowly lowered on her keel and rolled to her side as the tide receded.

Teach sent two of his nimblest topmen, accustomed to scurrying up ratlines, to climb trees on either side of the shoreline, where the careening pulleys were secured. Ropes were run out to the masts, and the _Pearl_ was pulled further over on her side. Relieving tackles were passed under the ship's hull and anchored to the lower gun ports on the opposite side to prevent the ship from overturning completely, and to help bring her back upright after the massive task was finished.

Gibbs stood next to Jack as they gazed at the immense bulk of the ship, now aground and tethered.

"Not exactly her best side, aye?" Jack squinted at his ship. The _Pearl_ laid on the sandy shore like some fantastic beached whale, her algae-coated, barnacle-encrusted underbelly showing signs of worm damage and abuse from her encounter with the hurricane.

"Not as much damage as we feared though," Gibbs observed optimistically, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Teach strolled up and nodded to the two of them. "The men have the tackles all set, Cap'n. They'll square away come morning, make 'em a raft to run alongside t' work from. Once we get the old pitch softened and burn off the muck, we'll give her a good scraping. Me and the boys are goin' t' grub up some food, 'bout worn out, the lot of 'em."

Jack gave him a suspicious look. "Who did you assign to anchor watch?"

Ed Teach shook his head and chuckled. "Not likely t' be boarded, laying on her side as she is. She's good and secure; tide won't steal her from ye."

"I am the Captain, _Mister_ Teach." Jack bristled. "I give the orders, and I say you post an anchor watch. I'll not be leaving me ship unguarded." His mind flitted to the last time he'd left the _Pearl_ unmanned, but he pushed the thought away just as quickly.

"Apologies, Cap'n." Teach held his hands up in supplication. "I'll see t' the guard, take the first watch meself." He gave a half bow and sauntered off towards his men who were huddled together on the beach.

Jack stared after him, muttering, "Nope, don't like 'im. Don't like the lot of 'em."

_They signed the articles, Jackie._

_Part of the crew now. The 'lot' of 'em._

_You're only Captain if they all agree. _

_Happened before, Jackie. Could happen again._

"Stow it!" Jack shouted, whirling around wide-eyed.

Gibbs gave him a worried look. "Cap'n?" He glanced around at the empty beach.

Jack didn't explain, just glared at a spot over Gibbs' left shoulder. "Who's he?"

Gibbs turned around and looked in the direction of a tall figure striding towards them. "That'd be Henry Jennings, feller I was tellin' you about, wanting to find the treasure camp."

"Wonder what he wants," Jack muttered, eyeing Jennings warily.

Jennings tipped his hat at them. "You Jack Sparrow?"

Jack looked around quickly. "Perhaps… maybe…why?"

"Heard you were shipwrecked over on the Florida coast, with them Spaniards."

"Just happened to wash up on the same beach. They weren't what I'd exactly call friendly."

Jennings nodded agreeably. "Can't think of a good thing to say about them bastards, 'cepting they've stockpiled a pile of gold, which I'm aiming to relieve 'em of." He studied Jack for a moment. "Also heard you were a 'guest' at their camp for a spell, that you might know where it is located."

Jack shrugged. "Wasn't consultin' me charts at the time."

Jennings smiled. "But ye might be able to point out a likely spot on one now… perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

"Well then, we might be able to reach some sort of agreement: A pretty profit for me and boon for you as well."

"You seem to know a great deal more about me than I do 'bout you." Jack's eyes narrowed as he studied the man before him.

Jennings laughed. "By your leave, where be my manners?" He bowed slightly. "Henry Jennings, captain of the _Bathsheba_, most recently out of Jamaica, at your service."

Jack nodded back. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow. My quartermaster, Gibbs." He eyed the other captain cautiously. "That's me ship over there, the _Black Pearl_."

Jennings whistled. "Heard plenty of tales of the _Black Pearl_. Pleasure to finally meet her captain. Took quite a beatin' in that storm, I'm told."

Jack gazed at his ship for a moment before replying. "Aye, that she did. Sailed through it, though."

"More than can be said for them Spaniards, aye?" Jennings chuckled and pushed his hat back on his head. "See, I'm figuring they oughtta have recovered a tidy pile of gold by now. Been told those native divers have been working non-stop." Jennings gave a wicked grin. "Word is they ain't got but a few men guardin' it, and that most of 'em are spread out 'mong the divin' sites. Ought not to be too difficult to surprise 'em."

"So you're seeking help locatin' this treasure camp." Jack stated, still suspicious of the other pirate's motives. "_If _I were to tell you where said treasure might be, not that I know, mind you, but if I were to point out a likely place on said charts, how will this be a boon to me?"

Jennings jerked his head towards the _Pearl _in her dry repose. "Fer starters, figure you won't be going out any time soon. Willin' to share some of me plunder, _if_ you can point me in the right direction."

Jack frowned. Pirates were not known for being magnanimous. He had a deep-seated feeling there was something more behind the offer than was being said.

"That's mighty generous of you. Any particular reason why?"

The other pirate looked pointedly at the _Pearl_. Ed Teach and two of his men had returned and were loitering around the beach, presumably on watch.

"See you've taken on Teach."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You know 'im?"

Jennings nodded. "Know _of_ him. Sailed out of Jamaica during the war. Said to be fearless in battle."

Jack cringed slightly inside. Not exactly what he'd hope to hear.

"You help me locate that treasure camp," Jennings said quietly, with another glance towards the burly, bearded Teach, "and I'll see to it that scallywag over there finds another ship to covet."

--

The men on anchor watch eyed the conversation between the two pirate captains with misgivings. The leader of their group seemed unconcerned about the whole affair, settling down comfortably in the shade cast by the careened ship's hull.

"Don't you think it odd ol' Jennings wantin' to have a word with Sparrow?"

Teach looked up at Roberts, who'd been hired on as carpenter, and shrugged. "Don't see no harm in it. Not like this ship's goin' on that little venture of Jennings'…or elsewhere any time soon."

"And neither are we. Remind us again why we're the only damn fools not sailin' with 'em?"

"The lot of 'em will be rakin' in all that Spanish gold and what'll we be doin'? Scraping this ol' tub just t' go on a fool's errand," the boatswain, Husk, complained, glaring at Teach.

"Fool's errand, ye say?" Teach sat up and glanced over to where Jennings and Sparrow were still conversing, then motioned his men closer. "Out there, on some uncharted island lies a treasure worth more than all the gold in the Spanish Main," he informed them in a low voice. "Men have sought in vain for it, have striven and fought, suffered and died for it, have endured plague, battle, shipwreck, famine, died screamin' 'neath Spanish tortures, languished in their dungeons and slave ships, all for the sake of that treasure."

Roberts spat on the ground. "Ain't no treasure worth that."

Teach stood up and walked over to the _Pearl_, running a hand along her keel. "This ain't no ordinary treasure. Heard the legends when I were just a lad. Swore t' meself I'd find it one day." He gave the two pirate captains another long glance.

"What I've heard is that treasure can't be found." John Husk pointed out. "Not even by a _hunsi kanzo_ like you."

Teach grinned wickedly. "For those that know the ways of _voudun_, who ain't above listening to the black _bokors, _nothing is impossible." He reached over and stroked the dark wood of the _Black Pearl_. "One only need find the means to the end." The ship seemed to shudder under his hand. He gazed at her thoughtfully. "I aim to find that treasure. And for that I need this ship…_and_ her captain."

--

The last rays of the sun were dancing across the aquamarine of the bay as the men wove their way through the many camps dotting the beach, Jennings having finally convinced Jack to at least hear him out. Gibbs tagged along, anxious to find out more about Teach and the new crew he'd found for Jack. His gut feeling was that they were trouble; Jack seemed to be in agreement. Perhaps this Jennings fellow would be able to help.

They joined Jennings' men lounging around the fire, passing bottles of rum and wine and speculating as to what they'd find when they sailed later that week. Jennings went over to a battered sea trunk and pulled out an old chart, unfolding it he spread it across the top of a broken barrel that served as a table.

"Best I make it, them ships would have gone aground about here." Jennings stabbed a spot on the map with a tar-stained finger.

Jack peered down at where he was pointing and shook his head. "Too far north. They mentioned St. Augustine was a good two days journey north. That'd put them about here."

Jennings marked the spot Jack was referring to and nodded. "Aye makes sense, what with the winds blowing them onto the reefs. As good a place as any to start." He shook Jack's hand and said in a low voice, "Got me a new quartermaster. Charlie Vane. A bit of a hothead, but the best fighter I've seen. Thinkin' of giving him his own command when we return. He'll be needin' his own quartermaster and crew. Thought I might recommend Teach to 'im. Peas in a pod them two."

Gibbs nodded. A decent ploy, he thought to himself. One that might just about do it. Young captain, need of a crew. Hot-headed, willing to take risks. Should be a draw for one as ambitious as Teach. The only question remaining was why Jennings was being so helpful. Gibbs knew better than to believe that there was no ulterior motive behind this, just wasn't sure what.

Jack seemed to be thinking the same thing. "What makes you so sure he'd take the offer?" Jack asked skeptically. "Gent seems keen on sailin' on the _Pearl_."

Jennings just chuckled. "He'll take it. Won't be able to resist."

"And what do you get out of this?" Jack asked bluntly.

"Gold. Lots of it. More than my ship can hold." Jennings sat back and took a long swallow of rum before offering the bottle to Jack. "I plan on sitting right here and ever so often makin' a short run across the channel fer as long as the salvagin' continues. Ought to keep me in rum and wenches for a good long spell." He glanced around and added in a low voice, "In my best interests to see them hot-heads put this town to their rudder."

"There ye be Jack," a familiar voice called out. "See ye met Jennings here." Frank Davies came over and clapped Jack on the back. "Thinkin' of joinin' us on this little venture?"

"Not so keen on seeing Florida again," Jack muttered. Then he added brightly, "Looking for a crew, Frank?

"Why? Ye got one yer want t' get rid of?" Davies chuckled and pulled his pipe out.

The two old friends settled down on the sand as the sun dipped into the sea. Gibbs was making to join them when he saw a movement along the tree line. In the twilight's shadows it was difficult to make out at first. A darker shape, vaguely female, was lingering there beyond the light cast by the fire. Curious as to whom it might be, Gibbs took a few hesitant steps in that direction. Someone threw another piece of kindling on the fire and, in the sudden flare-up, the mystery was solved.

"Cap'n," Gibbs said quietly, still not quite believing what he'd seen.

Jack looked up from his conversation with Davies. "Well, spit it out, man!" he said irritably.

Gibbs just pointed. There, standing in the shadows, was none other than the missing girl.

--

It was like waking from a dream. Jack crossed the short distance of sand in slow motion, his mind a whirl of emotions.

_Odd, isn't?_

_Her showing up again?_

_Sure you want to be doing this, mate?_

_Girl's only caused you trouble._

_You best watch yer back._

_And yer front._

For once Jack ignored the voices clamoring in his head, his mouth dry in anticipation as he finally reached the girl standing in the shadows, silent and still. "I thought you were dead," he started to say but she hushed him with a finger to his lips. She held out her hand and smiled; taking Jack's hand she led him back into the wooded area beyond the beach.

"You found something to wear, I see." Jack said, noting the thin chemise she was wearing. He smiled, a sense of relief overcoming his misgivings at her sudden reappearance. She seemed different somehow, more assured.

Jack took her hand and turned it upward. Brushing his lips lightly across her palm he felt her pulse beating strong under his fingers. His heart, slowed to a tempo to match hers, their breathing synchronized, as they reunited with one another.

"_I saw you with her."_

A whisper, an accusation. Not spoken but felt.

"_I will not be denied."_

Again, a sound, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore.

"_You are mine."_

Jack looked around and then back at the girl. "Are you…?" he wondered aloud.

"_Yes. I am in you, part of you."_

"…real?" He finished his question in a hoarse whisper.

--

The _Black Pearl's _timbers groaned as they adjusted to the new stresses placed upon them. Tilted bizarrely on her side, fully half of her hundred-and-ten foot length now lay out of the water, supported by the sloping white sand of the shallow inlet. With her massive underbelly exposed, she appeared more like a grotesque, beached sea creature than the graceful, majestic vessel she truly was.

The sun had long since set, its last vestiges of pink and gold swallowed by a darkening sea. A pale sliver of moon was riding low in the sky, shedding fitful light upon the shore as the tide furtively crept inward toward where the _Pearl_ lay, vulnerable and alone. Further inland, beyond her moorings, the channel narrowed, the passage becoming all but covered by the interlacing branches of the trees overhead. The night mists began to steam and writhe their spectral dance above the now coffee-colored waters of the stream. White crabs crawled, ghost-like, up and down the web of inter-arching roots that formed an endless labyrinth deep within the mangrove forest.

A rotten stench seeped out like tendrils along the surface of the murky water, one of decaying flesh and the rank smell of despair. The small boat made its way stealthily through the dreary dark, only the soft splash and drip of the oars disturbing the silence. Tall, white herons stood dimly in the gathered gloom like phantom sentinels, mute witnesses to their passage through the primal swamp. A hoarse night-raven, hidden among the roots, startled the three voyagers with its caw. Then all, once again, was silent as a grave.

The boat's occupants were not to be deterred, however, and continued steadfast through the night. Ahead, a glimmer signaled their approach to the cove, the freshening breeze carrying the tang of the sea with it. They emerged from the shadows and saw their quarry before them, black as the sky above. Excitement rippled through the trio as they gazed upon their prize. Her anchor watch was nowhere to be seen, no doubt lured away by the prospects of rum and loose women. The black ship lay unguarded, theirs for the taking.


	16. Chapter 15 Storm Watch

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 15 – Storm Watch

Along the surges creeping up the shore  
When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,  
And running, running, till the night was black,  
Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand  
And quiver with the winds from off the sea.  
Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides  
Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me  
Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.  
I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands  
And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet,  
From whom the sea is bitterer than death.

_Sara Teasdale_

He is the sand, bronzed skin glistening in the moonlight, his lover, the restless sea, yearning for the kiss of the shore. In pale moonlight, hidden by the veil of stars, he surrenders between the fingers of the night, as they conjoin at water's edge, swelling with the tide in a passionate embrace. Tongue ripple, wet and sultry, against the necks of sand, encircling mounds of salty seaweed, her mouth seeking, finding, engulfing him in fevered heat. His seed burns hot within her, awakening needs long unsated. She washes over him in a tidal pool of liquid fire, burning without, burning within. A shattering release unleashes cries unheard, swallowed up in the rushing surge of the pounding surf. Then, their fever spent, they drift in a peaceful repose upon the ebbing tide.

--

The morning light revealed the havoc wrought by the previous evening's storm. Tangled amidst the seaweed marking the tide's forward path, debris littered the shore.

The squall had swept in swiftly, catching the sleeping men unawares. Most had run for cover at the first crack of thunder, weathering out the storm beneath the protective canopy of a stand of trees. They returned to the beach at sunrise, to find their camps naught but a jumble of canvas tents blown helter-skelter, amidst the scattered remains of their stores. In the now-calm bay, several boats listed sadly under the weight of their water-filled hulls.

Gibbs scanned the milling men, searching for Jack in the pale light of dawn. His concern for his captain was overshadowed by a deeper concern for his ship, and whether the _Pearl_, beached and tethered, had survived the storm surge of the night before.

Failing to find Jack, Gibbs headed up the beach, joined halfway by Teach and several of his men. As much as Gibbs did not trust the young upstart, he had to admit the bearded giant was showing proper concern for his ship.

Frank Davies joined them as well, falling in alongside Gibbs, as they trudged through the wet sand.

"Seen Jack this mornin'?" Gibbs asked in a low voice.

Davies shook his head. "Not a hair since he disappeared last night. Figure him and that girl are makin' up for lost time." He chuckled and pulled out his pipe, filling it as they walked. "She's easy on the eyes, that's the gods' truth."

Gibbs reddened, remembering his own erotic dreams. "Aye, that be the truth," he mumbled. _Girl could bewitch a man. _

Davies took a long draw of his pipe. "Still, something's not quite right about her," he murmured, half to himself. "Can't put my finger on it." He shook his head again." Funny, her showin' up like that again, if you ask me."

Their conversation was interrupted by shouting from some men, further ahead on the beach, who were waving their arms frantically as they pointing to the careened _Pearl._ Gibbs and Davies hurried to where the men were gathered, staring down at an object in the sand.

"What is it?" Davies demanded, pushing his way towards the front of the group, Gibbs close on his heels. He inhaled sharply and stepped aside, allowing for Gibbs to see for himself.

It was a man, or what was left of him. There was no question that he was dead, his throat pierced through by the large iron cargo hook. He lay sprawled on the sand, his arms and legs at unnatural angles from his body, as if he'd fallen from a great height. It was not a pleasant sight for anyone.

Davies looked around at the men silently huddled. "Any of you gents recognize this fellow?"

The men mumbled and shook their heads. Another shout drew their attention, this one coming from closer to the _Pearl, _which now sat half erect, as if she'd been righted in the night. The cause of the alarm was soon apparent: another man lay dead on the sand, his skull smashed like a walnut. Apparently one of the tackles tethering the ship had broken loose in the storm, the large block catching the man in its recoil. The relieving tackles had also been released, allowing the ship to shift upright, somehow crushing a third man, barely discernable in the shallow water, beneath the ship's massive keel.

The crew were now whispering among themselves about the ship being cursed, with several making counter signs to ward off the evil presence. One older gent spit and muttered, "Like a bad woman, she's tasted blood – they'll be no trustin' her no more."

"Any of you recognize these men?" Davies asked again.

The men mumbled and shook their heads, most of them retreating down the beach, distancing themselves from the murderous ship.

"Superstitious, white-livered curs, the lot of 'em," Ed Teach snarled, watching them go. He cursed and spit. "Beggin' yer pardon, Mr. Gibbs, I'll fetch their sorry, sniveling carcasses back here, if I have to shoot a few to make 'em sit up and listen." He stomped away up the beach after the men, shouting and cursing as he went.

Gibbs and Davies walked around, surveying the scene before them.

"It 'pears the men were lookin' to steal the _Pearl_," Davies said to Gibbs, pointing out the loosened tackles and mooring lines.

"Thought Jack ordered Teach to set an anchor watch," Gibbs replied, shaking his head. "He's goin' be in quite a temper when he finds out."

Davies poked curiously about in the small boat that was pulled up on the sand. "Looks as if they came down through there," he said, pointing towards the mangrove swamp. He pulled a rolled-up chart out of the boat and opened it. "Knew what they were after, from the looks of it," he added, stabbing a finger on the chart depicting the area. A large X marked the inlet and next to it was scribbled the words "Black Pearl."

Gibbs looked up at the black ship looming overhead. "Seems the _Pearl_ wasn't in the mood to be commandeered," he said solemnly.

--

There wasn't much that could be done for the dead men. After considerable cursing and threats of bodily harm, Ed Teach managed to round up his crew and they set to retrieving the bodies and readying them for disposal.

Frank Davies took charge of the operation, directing that the bodies be sewn up in canvas shrouds for eventual burial at sea. He was disturbed. Beyond the gruesomeness of the scene, there was something else, something more sinister afoot. He'd be damned if he knew what, however.

To make matters worse, Jack Sparrow had not shown up, and his quartermaster was becoming rather anxious about it. Davies glanced over at Gibbs, who was supervising the men as they secured the _Pearl_ once more. He'd known Josh Gibbs long enough to recognize when the man was worried. Perhaps, in light of the circumstances, it might be prudent to send out a search party for the missing Sparrow.

A commotion broke out among the men once more. Cursing silently under his breath, Davies strode angrily over to see what the problem was this time. "Confound it, man! What the bloody hell is going on now?" Davies shouted. He came around the bulk of the ship to find Teach holding a squirming female in his grasp.

"My, my my," Teach was saying. "Lookie what we got here, mates. If it ain't ol' Sadie herself, come to suck the lot of you I'm expectin'. Ain't that right, Sadie?"

"Let me go," Sadie cried, struggling wildly. "I ain't here to suck none of you motherless bastards! I need to see Jack Sparrow!"

Teach just held on tighter and shook his shaggy mane. "Now that ain't no way t' be treatin' me and the boys! Sparrow ain't the only man jack around here with an itch t' scratch. He can wait his turn. Everything's a fair share, ain't that right, gents?"

Sadie just struggled even harder to escape the grip on her arm. "Let me go, Ed! I didn't come here for that!" She was pleading now, her face flushed, a fearful, feral look in her eyes.

Davies stood square in Teach's face. "Unhand the woman, Teach," he growled. "Or I'll have ye for violatin' the articles."

Teach gave a cold laugh, bearing his yellow teeth in a sneer. "Don't right remember you signing them articles, Davies. Unless yer planning a mutiny against the good Captain Sparrow, I'd say ye have no say in the matter."

Davies pulled his pistol. "I've known Jack Sparrow for more years than you've been sailing, boy," Davies said, his voice deep and threatening. "And, he don't stand for this sort of behavior from his crew." He cocked the pistol to punctuate his point. "And unless yer plannin' that mutiny yerself, I say unhand the wench."

"Now, we wouldn't want to be doin' nothin' to upset Captain Sparrow, would we boys? Especially when it comes to one of his whores," Teach said, raising his hands in supplication. His crew laughed nervously behind him, glancing back and forth between the two men.

Sadie took refuge behind Davies, eyes wide and body trembling.

Gibbs, who until this point had remained silent, finally stepped in as quartermaster. "Articles are quite clear on it, Teach. You read 'em and agreed to 'em. No molesting a woman, prisoner or otherwise against her will."

"Don't see how that applies to ol' Sadie here," Teach said, laughing. "Shit, me and the boys have been swiving her nonstop for weeks. Ain't heard her complain none."

"Well, 'pears she's complainin' now," Gibbs said, with finality. "You and yer boys best get back t' work, before yer all out a berth."

Davies waited until Teach and his men returned to their tasks before tucking his pistol back in his sash. He then turned to the cowering girl behind him. "Ain't no one gonna be botherin' you no more," he said, quietly. "What say you and me go someplace quiet like, and have a bit of a chat." He took the girl's arm gently but firmly, and led her back along the beach toward the camps.

Gibbs elected to stay behind and supervise the remaining work needed to secure the _Pearl_.

"Just watch yer back, Josh," Davies told him, before taking his leave. It was becoming more and more imperative they locate Sparrow. These men bore all the signs of a crew ripe for mutiny.

"Aye, that I will," Gibbs commented, a worried look in his eyes. "I'll be joinin' you shortly, Frank. Something's not right here, best we get t' the bottom of it, before we sail."


	17. Chapter 16 Devil in Consort

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 16 – Devil in Consort

NIGHT loosen'd all the blackness of her hair,  
Which fell about her in an ample cloud  
Dropp'd with no jewels, veiling her blue eyes  
In ebon fringes, and a sighing sound  
Stole from her closed lips, as in unrest  
She sway'd with slowest motion to and fro;  
Then sat serene, and seem'd to search within  
The abysses of her soul and memory vast,  
And thoughts unknown to men; and wept her hours  
(Her lovely starlit hours, choice gifts) defil'd  
By evil, cruel thoughts, and bloodier deeds.

_Bessie Rayner Belloc_

--

"She's a man killer, I tell ya! I saw her, plain as yer sittin' there!" Sadie's hands trembled as she took the rum-laced coffee Davies offered her and took several long sips before resuming her tale. "He were dead, gutted like a wild hog." Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away.

"Who was dead?" Davies kept his voice gentle. _No need to be startling the girl any further. _

"The obeah man, has that place up by the creek, just past the cemetery." The rum seemed to be helping; Sadie's voice was stronger, more confident.

"What was a wench like you doin' up in them woods by yerself that time of night?"

Sadie gave Davies a quick glance then turned away, her face reddening. "Lost my way, didn't I?" She drew in the sand aimlessly with her finger, not looking up. "Was comin' here. Took a wrong turn I guess."

"And you happened to run into this man-killing wench along the way?" Davies tried to keep the skepticism from of his voice. He pointed to the numerous scratches covering her arms and legs. "Is that how ye get those marks?"

"Told you, I lost my way! When I saw her there, blood dripping from her mouth, I ran." She ran her hands up and down her arms, hugging herself close. "Can't blame a girl, can you? How was I t'know what'd she do next." She shrugged and added with an impatient toss of her head, "Don't know why yer so worried about me. You oughtta be lookin' for Jack." She shuddered and gave him a wide-eyed stare. "Fer all you know, Jack could be lying out there, dead and gutted like that obeah man."

--

Jack was lying under a tall cotton tree, languid eyes gazing at the brilliant blue sky above. His companion sat off to one side, knees tight against her chest, arms encircling them as she rocked, a small smile on her face. No words were spoken, yet they conversed, their minds melding together.

_Who are you…does it matter…I want to know you…I know you, that's all that matters…who are you… I am in you, part of you …I don't even know your name …_

"Aycayía."

Jack sat up and stared wide-eyed. Her voice, it was _her_ voice he'd heard. Melodic, soothing… like waves lapping against the shore.

"Aycayía?"

His voice sounded hoarse and harsh in contrast. Swallowing he tried again, softer. "Aycayía."

She smiled and nodded.

Jack stood up and raised his hands in triumph. "Finally! After all this time! Aycayía! Why not tell me before? Nothing to be ashamed of." He cocked his head and grinned, eyes twinkling. "Aycayía. Lovely name that. And lovely voice, you should try using it more often."

To his dismay the girl's eyes welled up with tears and she began rocking harder, hugging herself tight.

"No, no, belay!" Jack knelt down and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as she sobbed silent tears. He awkwardly tried to comfort her, rubbing her back as he brushed his lips against her hair and murmured soothing words.

A cloud passed overhead, throwing them into shadow and bringing a slight chill in the wind. The hairs on the back of Jack's neck prickled and he found his body responding to her presence, his desire aroused by her softness and vulnerability. His mouth sought hers, at first gentle but soon with a devouring need to consume. Possessed by the dual demons of greed and lust, he found himself ravishing her despite her frantic attempts to push him away. He was about to take her by force when the sound of men's voices brought him crashing back to the surface of sanity.

"Over here!" The man's cry echoed in the silence, startling a flock of birds into hurried flight.

Jack was suddenly aware of himself, on his knees panting, and looked in horror at the frightened girl beneath him. His mind swirled in fractured patterns of thoughts and images.

_Take her! You know you want to. No. Don't take her. What are you doing? She wants you, practically devoured you last night. Go ahead. Fair is fair. Your turn. No! BELAY! Why, Jackie? You know you want her. Pirate! Take what you can. Plunder the goods, Ravish…_

"There! Thank God, Jack! Yer alive!"

Gibbs blundered into the clearing, with Davies and several others on his heels, all with cutlasses drawn, ready to engage in battle.

Jack stared unseeing at the men, trying to quell the clamoring voices in his head.

_Too bad, Jackie. Maybe next time. No! Won't be a next time. There will, you know it. You want her, you'll take her. Take her. Take her. Just wait. Just wait, Jackie. Wait for the opportune time. Take what you can…_

"Stop, just shut it! Go away!"

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he saw the looks on the men's faces. Davies' face showed what the rest were undoubtedly thinking: dismay... and a hint of disgust. Glancing down, Jack could see why.

The girl lay beneath him, eyes wide and frightened, tears streaming down her face. Her chemise was ripped open, as were Jack's breeches, exposing his intent for all to see. Purplish bruises were forming on her slender arms where his fingers had dug into her flesh. Not a pretty sight.

"Well, gents, I can see _Captain_ Sparrow is not in need of _rescuing_ after all." The contempt in Davies' voice was unmistakable. He gave Jack a direct look. "When you are _finished_ with the wench you might want to check on your ship. There was a disturbance in the night." With that he turned on his heel and stomped off without another glance Jack's way.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs queried, tentative.

Jack slowly sat back, his steady gaze on the girl, expecting her to bolt at the first chance. Instead, she rolled on her side and curled into a ball, her thin shoulders shaking from silent sobs.

The remainder of the men shuffled silently away, leaving only Gibbs. Hand thrust in his pockets, he scuffed the toe of his boot in the sand, obvious embarrassment on his face.

Jack stood up and adjusted his clothing, his eyes black and bleak. Drained, he rubbed his face with his hands in bewilderment. "Go ahead, say it, "he said bluntly. "Ain't like I'm not feeling it. You think me a depraved bastard, no better than Barbossa, or the rest of them bloody blaggards."

"Seen worse," Gibbs mumbled. "Not like you t' use force, 'tis all."

"Not meself, not then. Don't know what it was, where it came from." Jack shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. He looked Gibbs in the eye, his voice shaky. "Whatever it was, it will be back."

--

Henry Jennings set sail with his fleet of two ships, three sloops, and some 300 men for the east coast of Florida on the dawn's tide, their goal to locate the Spanish treasure camp and make off with the salvaged gold. Frank Davies stood on the shore and watched with mixed emotions as the fleet make its way out the over the bar and through the mouth of the harbor.

"Missin' the best damn opportunity I'll ever see for easy plunder," he said to no one in particular, being quite alone on the beach. The camps had all but been abandoned, left to the scavengers: the gulls, and mongrel dogs, along with the ragged urchins and whores that seemed to follow the men wherever they roamed.

Davies turned and glanced up the beach, where the crew of the _Black Pearl _were busily righting the ship. Her captain had reappeared, young woman in tow, without an explanation or excuse, and just began immediately barking orders to make haste and prepare to make way. For all the years he'd known Jack Sparrow, and all the ventures they'd been on, Frank Davies found himself worried for the first time. Something had gone terribly wrong that time Jack had sailed off with Black Bellamy. And something was terribly wrong now.

--

It was dusk before the crew of the _Black Pearl_ had her upright and afloat once more. The incoming evening tide helped them complete their task, allowing them to guide the ship out into the deeper waters of the bay. Now, the black ship sat serenely at anchor, her sails neatly reefed, as the sun dipped below the sea, leaving only a smattering of pink-tinged clouds behind. Her reluctant crew, still muttering about the ship being cursed, did not linger, retreating up the beach to their camps.

Jack chose to stay with the _Pearl_, bringing the girl along as a precaution. Even though he no longer trusted himself to be alone with her, he trusted the others even less. Gibbs and Davies had accompanied him to the ship and the three of them sat around the table in the Great Cabin, the girl huddled on the bench beneath the stern windows. The air was thick with tension and unspoken accusations.

Jack was the first to speak, choosing to break the ice on his own terms. "Go ahead, say what you're bloody thinking."

Davies took a pull on his pipe and leaned back. "Not much to say, Jack. Pretty obvious what you're fighting. Best take Teach's advice and go see that obeah woman."

Jack scowled at him. "Not so bloody obvious to me. If you known I had this so-called ghost infestation, you should have bloody well spoken up."

He sulked in silence, not pleased with them, and less pleased with himself.

"We did Cap'n." Gibbs said in a low voice. "Didn't want to hear it, then."

"Like I bloody well want to hear it now?!" Jack's shouting startled the girl, who cringed and huddled further into the corner. He glanced at her, his expression softening and he added in a quieter voice, "She didn't deserve it, what I did. No matter what Sadie and the others are saying, the girl's no more a man-killer than the _Pearl_."

Jack ran his hand over his face and grabbed the bottle of rum, taking several large swallows before setting it down with a thump. "Don't trust meself with her anymore," he said half to himself, his tone angry. "Bloody hell!"

"Want me to keep her with me, Jack?" Davies nodded toward the girl as he tapped the ash from his pipe and stowed it in his pocket. "She can stay on the _Tess_. None of them likely to be bothering with her after what Sadie told 'em."

Jack sighed, hunched over the table, with his head propped in his hands. "Probably for the best, Frank. Seems I owe you a lot."

Davies chuckled. "You'd do the same if it were me and ye know it. We'll get ye cured, Jack. Seen ye through worse, haven't I?" He smiled at the girl. "Ever find out her name?"

Jack glanced over at her, a silent tear trickling down her cheek. "Said her name was Aycayía."

At the sound of her name she looked up, a glimmer of hope flashed in her eyes before the sorrow returned.

"Aycayía?" Davies sat back and stroked his beard. "Interesting name. There's a local legend about a girl named Aycayía, if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye." Gibbs said. "She of the Beautiful Voice. That's what it means, Aycayía."

"She of the beautiful voice," Jack repeated, remote in thought. "Yet this Aycayía is mute."

Gibbs nodded. "She would be, if she were the girl of the legend." He leaned forward, eyes brightened with the opportunity to relate the tale. "You see, the tale is that, among the Ciboney people, there lived Aycayía, She of the Beautiful Voice. 'Tis said she was so beautiful, her siren's voice so enticin', that all the men of the village would stop whatever they was doin' just to listen, forsaking their wives to sit at the feet of Aycayía as she sang and danced. Well, as you can imagine, this didn't sit too well with all those wives. The elders of the village, beset by pleas from the women, banished Aycayía to an isolated island, with only the ancient crone, Guanayo as a companion."

"Marooned, were she?" Jack glanced over at the girl. With one hand pressed against the glass, she was staring out the window at the moonlit sea beyond. Without taking his eyes away Jack asked in a low voice, "What happened to her?"

Gibbs lowered his voice as well. "Now as fate would have it, a huge storm swallowed 'em up afore they ever reached that island. It's said that Aycayía, now mute, was transformed into a mermaid and the old crone a sea turtle on whose back Aycayía rides the seas to this day."

"Aycayía, beauty and sin incarnate," Davies recited, nodding in recollection. "Aycayía, who give men pleasure but robs them of will. Aycayía, eternally doomed to wander the raging sea."

"If you believe such things," Gibbs added.

Jack studied the girl, his mind a confused whirl of emotions. "Not sure what to believe anymore," he said with resignation.

--

"The girl's a bloody succubus, I'm tellin' ye." Ed Teach was stretched out in the sand near the campfire, his hands folded beneath his head as he stared up at the star-filled sky. "Sparrow drug her back with him from Florida, and has been suffering the consequences ever since. Bloody demon's got him by his balls."

One of his men poked nervously at the fire with a stick, shaking his head in disagreement. "Nah, Ed, I say she's one of them zombies that bokor's been raising over on the other side of the island. Heard tell there's quite a market for 'em."

"What's to stop her from killin' us like she did that obeah man?" another piped in. "I say we do her in 'fore she kills us all."

"Won't do no good if she's a zombie, would it? She'd be already dead!"

Teach sat up and shook his shaggy mane. "The girl ain't gonna kill none of ye. Most she'll do is fuck the life out of ye in yer sleep." He laughed, and said with a gleam in his eye, "Not such a bad thing; I can think of worse ways t' go."

"Well, I don't like it, Ed." The ship's carpenter spat into the fire. "And, if what Sadie says _is_ true, it could be one of us next." He turned and stared out across the black water of the bay. "Unless that black sea-witch of a ship of his don't kill us first."

Teach stood up with an angry swipe of his hand. "Keep this here talk up and it won't be no girl nor ship killin' none of ye," he growled. "I'll do the deed meself." He rummaged around and found a bottle of rum, uncorked it with his teeth, and spat the cork out into the sand. "I didn't turn down a chance at all that Spanish gold, just to be gutted like a pig by a _suck-you-bye_. We need t' be getting Sparrow cured of his affliction, so we can go after that treasure I spoke of. That's what you need be worryin' about."

He stared out at the black ship barely discernable against the night sky. "You gents just worry about getting us there. Let me worry about Sparrow and that girl."

--

Frank Davies tossed fitfully in his sleep. His mind was troubled and he'd had a hard time drifting off. Images of the girl were haunting his dreams…images of her sprawled helplessly on the ground, so fragile, like a beautiful butterfly caught in a spider's web. Quivering limbs, trembling lips…he wanted to take her and protect her and hold her close, and…

He was dreaming. Or was he? He felt her first, her presence upon him. Warm lips sought his, as hands traveled across his chest and ran down his sides, searching, exploring, finding their prize. Arching his back, he gasped as she slipped her hand into his breeches, finding his cock hard and throbbing. Her fingers raked along the length, drawing another cry of pain and then pleasure, her grasp harder and firmer with each stroke.

Moving downward, she slithered along his body, pulling and ripping his shirt away, until her mouth found bare skin. Biting and nipping, sucking his nipples as if he were a wench, she drew exquisite, agonizing pleasure with her teeth as they bit harder. Her hand never stopped, stroking and squeezing, as her mouth roamed lower. He tried to open his eyes, to take a breath, to say something, but could only muster whimpers of delight and torment, as her mouth descended upon him.

Never before had he experienced this combination of pain and pleasure. Her teeth scraped, yet her tongue soothed. Over and over, she impaled herself upon his cock, her throat opening wide to take his entire length in. When it seemed he could bear it no longer, the torment stopped. And, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone.

Alone, his cock raw and throbbing, he woke to the wetness of raindrops, or were they tears, on his face. He finished with his own hand what she had begun. Hissing through clenched teeth he endured the pain for the fleeting pleasure it would bring.


	18. Chapter 17 Untamed Ghosts

Through a Glass Darkly

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 17 – Untamed Ghosts

I tell you a tale to-night  
Which a seaman told to me,  
With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light  
And a voice as low as the sea.

You could almost hear the stars  
Twinkling up in the sky,  
And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars  
And the same old waves went by.

Singing the same old song  
As ages and ages ago,  
While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night  
With the things he seemed to know.

A bare foot pattered on deck;  
Ropes creaked; then-all grew still,  
And he pointed his finger straight in my face  
And growled, as a sea-dog will.

_-- Alfred Noyes_

--

They sailed in consort on the morning tide, Jack Sparrow at the helm of the _Black Pearl,_ guiding her out the narrow mouth of the harbor. The sloop, _Contessa,_ with Frank Davies in command, rode off the _Pearl's_ starboard rail as they rounded the northern tip of Hog Island. When they reached the deep blue waters of the New Providence Channel, it was a following wind. Jack ordered all canvas spread, even the studdingsails that flanked the mainsails, and the two triangular jibs on the bowsprit. Running before the wind, both vessels picked up speed, and the sloop edged out from the larger ship to allow for more sea room. As the winds filled their sails, they slanted away toward the southeast.

Satisfied his ship was running well, Jack had turned over the helm, informed Gibbs that he did not wish to be disturbed as he retired to his cabin. Toward the end of the next watch, the captain summoned Ed Teach to join him. Gibbs watched with a sense of foreboding as the burly Teach disappeared through the cabin door. He glanced over at the long, low hull of the _Contessa_, keeping pace with the larger ship, thankful to have Frank Davies sailing alongside. Before retiring to his cabin, Jack had given Gibbs their heading. It appeared they were going to take that trip 'up river', after all.

--

Teach found Jack studying several charts spread out on the large table in the center of the cabin. The girl was sitting beneath the stern windows, staring out at the blue water beyond. Both looked up briefly then returned to their studies. Teach wasn't bothered by their lack of attention, and took the opportunity to scan the cabin with a probing eye. He was searching for something in particular, something he hoped to find among the many curios scattered around the cabin, exotic souvenirs from a lifetime of roving the seas.

Ed Teach knew it were only a matter of time before he'd be summoned. The way he figured it, both he and the captain of the _Black Pearl_ had something the other wanted: knowledge. He waited patiently, rocking slightly on his heels, hands behind his back.

Finally, Jack threw down his dividers and took a long swallow of rum from the bottle that had been holding down a corner of the chart. Waving Teach toward the chair opposite him, Jack began without preamble.

"I hear you know how to rid a person of ghosts."

"Perhaps." Teach took the bottle offered him and leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his palm before swallowing his share. "Depends on what kind of ghosts have latched onto ye."

"Not so sure meself." Jack's restless eyes flitted around the room. "Voices, mostly."

Teach nodded. He'd heard of them, disembodied voices, jabbering inside a man's head. Mostly harmless, but had been known to drive a man insane with their incessant clamoring.

"How long they been botherin' ye?" Teach studied the pirate captain in front of him. From his twitching and darting eyes, he wagered Jack Sparrow had been battling these particular ghosts for some time. "Happen t' know where ye picked 'em up?"

Jack shook his head. "Ever since I sailed …" He paused, then added in a noncommittal voice, "Don't see where that much matters."

"True enough." Teach had a pretty good idea of when and where. He handed the rum back to Jack. "Mix this with a bit of gunpowder, when they get too bothersome. That, and black tobacco will keep 'em at bay, 'til we reach that obeah woman of yers."

The watch bell rang and Teach stood to leave. "I've next watch, Cap'n. That rum there oughtta do the trick."

He bowed slightly and left the cabin, a smile on his face. Patience was the key, now. With Jack Sparrow as skittish as he were, one needed to tread lightly. He was content to bide his time.

--

They dropped anchor for the night in a sheltered cove on the southern end of Andros Island. Known locally as the _Isle de Loas Bossals_-- roughly translating to the Island of Untamed Ghosts-- it was a lonely and fearful place, riddled with swamps, creeks, underground tunnels and caverns.

The crewmembers on the _Pearl_ were torn between two evils: staying on board a ship half of them considered cursed, or going ashore on an island known to be haunted. The shore won out, prompted by assurance from Teach that he could keep the ghosts at bay.

"Ghost repellent," he explained, patting an oilskin packet on his lap, as they rowed to shore. The others in the boat cast dubious eyes at one another, but no one argued the point. They beached their longboats on the sandy shore, and headed inland, to set up camp beyond the tide line.

"Set them torches around the perimeter of the camp," Teach instructed, as the men unloaded the boats. "Won't be no ghosts botherin' us as long as they stay lit."

"What if one of us were to venture outside 'em?" a fearful voice asked.

Teach grinned, his yellow teeth gleaming in the torchlight. "Best you not venture too far, Husk, if you wish t' sail on the morrow." Laughing he glanced out at the black ship anchored in the cove. "Who knows, ye might even get lucky, and have that _suck-you-by_ of his come visitin'."

The other men shared a nervous laugh, ribbing each other as to who's sexual prowess would be able to outlast the others. They did as directed, and soon the torches were burning bright, keeping both their fears and the darkness beyond at bay.

Frank Davies, who had come ashore with his own men, listened with interest to the banter, wondering if the rumors _were_ true. He strolled over to where Teach was lounging next to the cook fire, intent on learning more about this so called 'night visitor'. He pulled out his pipe, and began to fill it as he leaned against an uprooted tree trunk.

"Heard you mention that girl of Sparrow's," Davies began, keeping his voice casual.

"Yer not goin' t' get on me about that one too, are ye?" Teach growled and spat on the ground. "She ain't no Sadie, and none of me boys been swiving her. Best be keepin' yer lectures for Sparrow."

"That be the problem," Davies said in a low voice, adjusting his breeches and wincing. "Can't be mentioning it t' him. Wasn't sure what t' think, 'til I heard you mention the succubus."

Teach raised a bushy eyebrow and gave Davies a wicked grin. "You?!" he asked in an incredulous voice. "Well, burn and sink me! Don't tell me one's done visited ye?" He slapped his leg and let out a loud laugh.

"Not sure whether it were or not. But whatever it were, it were real enough." Davies lowered his voice. "No need t' be alarmin' the men, but perhaps ye might tell me what you know, seeing as you seem to know all about 'em."

"Not much to tell," Teach said with a grin. "Demons they are, intent on pleasuring themselves. Feed on lust." He shrugged. "Not much harm in 'em, if you ask me."

Davies frowned. "Could it be this girl of Sparrow's is one?"

Teach shrugged and spat again. "Could be. Plenty of talk of 'em infestin' that coast where he washed up. Could have found him one." He narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't be the girl herself, though. Them suck_-you-byes_, they ain't got no body, just take the form of whatever yer cravin'." He scratched himself in a lewd manner. "Been lustin' after Sparrow's wench, now have ye?" he asked with a leer.

"No more than any of yer men, Teach." Davies said, his voice sharp, as he shook the ash out of his pipe. "Not sure why it singled me out, but I'm aimin' t' find out, right enough." He stowed his pipe in his pocket and gestured toward the men lounging around the fire. "I'm goin' t' have me a talk with Sparrow. You keep yer men on shore, away from that girl."

"Ain't no stoppin' a _suck-you-bye,_ if she be wantin' to fuck one of 'em," Teach laughed. "But, I'll keep 'em ashore, just the same."

--

The full moon was rising as Davies rowed out to where the _Pearl_ lay at anchor. The black ship loomed overhead, the creaking of her sheets and shrouds the only sign of life. He tied up and called out, "Permission to come aboard."

A face appeared overhead, as Gibbs peered down and acknowledged him, lending a helpful hand as Davies climbed the sea ladder.

"Good t' see you, Frank," Gibbs said, in a quiet voice. "Was hopin' you might show up."

"Something the matter?" Davies glanced around the silent ship. "Where be Jack?"

Gibbs gestured with his head towards the helm, where Jack stood, ghostlike in the moonlight. "Won't go below, nor nowheres near the lass." He shook his head. "Offered t' lock her in the brig, but he wouldn't have nothin' t' do with it. Said the brig wouldn't stop her, whatever that means."

"Any idea what might have brought this on?" Davies furrowed his brow. "Seemed fine with her earlier."

Gibbs gave Jack a long, worried look. "Something in his past, I'm thinkin', seems t' be vexing him."

"I'll try and talk to him," Davies said. "Where's the girl now?"

Gibbs nodded towards the bow. "Got herself wrapped 'round the bowsprit. Can't get her to come down."

Davies looked toward the bow of the ship, where he could barely make out the figure of the girl. She'd crawled out onto the bowsprit, and was perched above the figurehead, staring out to sea.

_Well, with the length of the ship between them, don't seem that Jack has much to fear from her at the moment. _

Davies made his way aft and climbed up to where Jack stood, hands gripping the wheel.

"Evenin', Jack," he said amiably. "Thought we might go over tomorrow's headings, check the charts." He kept his voice casual. "Maybe, drink a bit of rum."

Jack gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles white in the moonlight. "Can't go below. She's waitin' there," Jack mumbled. "All dead, all dead." He began rocking, chanting the words, over and over.

Davies gave a concerned glance toward the bow, noting the girl had not moved. He tried again, more determined this time. "Jack, no one is below. Why don't you come with me…"

He reached out to take his arm, but Jack whirled on him, batting his hand away as he cried out, eyes wide, "No! Don't you see? It's what she wants, what she's waiting for!"

Jack turned and gripped the wheel again, muttering to himself, "Must get away. Must warn them. All dead. Must tell Bill. Must warn him."


	19. Chapter 18 Blue Holes, Black Nights

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 18 – Blue Holes, Black Nights

--

You who have piled white towers of thunder above us,  
you who have trysted afar in golden and fabulous lands,  
shall I watch you feeding the doves in a landman's courtyard,  
sweeping a landman's hearth with a seaman's hands.

And what have you left to say to your inland woman?  
will you speak to her of the white and dusty roads of our sea?  
safe in the candle shine as the drowned are safe!  
will you speak of the bitter bright peril you followed with me!

Ah forget if you can the woman who rode at your bowsprit,  
sit by the fire and forget, when the long tides cry to the moon,  
never remember our silver and vigiling cities,  
never remember our star you've forsaken too soon.

And I shall go down once more to the sea, and his mercy,  
Down to the desolate sea, alone, with the salt in my eyes,  
I who have lived by the sword of his excellent beauty,  
Shall die, at the last, by his sword, as a seawoman dies.

_ Dorothy Paul_

--

The moon cast a silver swath along the beach, where the men from the _Black Pearl_ and _Contessa _were camped for the night. The torches placed around the perimeter of the camp sputtered in the fitful wind that blew in, off the sea. White-tipped waves swept across the black water of the bay, while ragged clouds swirled in the night sky above. A low moaning sound came streaming across the water. It seemed to emanate from the black ship that lay at anchor.

"What was that?" John Husk sat up, and asked in a horse voice.

One of the other men answered sleepily, "What was what? I don't hear nothin'."

A third grumbled and told them both to shut up.

Dismissing it as just the wind, Husk settled back down in the sand. The wind freshened, causing the torches to flare and carried with it, once more, the low, baleful cry. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he caught a movement. Just beyond the light cast from the flame, a figure moved towards the sandy berm that lined the beach: a figure, most definitely female. He held his breath and strained to see into the darkness beyond.

She was moving along the crest of the dune, now. He could see her form outlined against the sky, the moonlight revealing her nakedness, as she slipped wraith-like across the sand. She paused and glanced back at the beach, as if waiting for someone to follow.

Husk licked his lips, his breeches suddenly snug as his body responded.

_Perhaps she were that suck-you-bye that Teach had been going on about._

Husk reached a hand and adjusted his cock, already swollen in anticipation. The figure stopped and beckoned to him with a crook of a finger. There was no mistaking her intent, this time. Swallowing hard, he rose and stealthily made his way towards her.

"No reason to be waking any of the others, they can get their turn after I'm through. "

Eager, Husk scrambled up the side of the dune, slipping in the loose sand. The girl moved on, leading away, the moonlight glistening on her bare skin, affording an easy quarry to follow. With an unexpected turn, she veered and disappeared into the thick tangle of tall pines, sea grape and palmetto, leaving him to stumble along blindly, in the general direction of where he'd seen her last.

The moon slipped behind a cloud plunging the wood into darkness. Cursing the tangle of brush, Husk struggled forward, breaking free of the suffocating jungle into an unexpected clearing. The moonlight once more streamed down, revealing the girl several yards ahead. She was poised on the edge of a rock, an alabaster statue in the night, her naked body tantalizing and tempting.

His breath coming in short gasps from his exertion, Husk left all his other fears behind, as he approached his quarry, alone and vulnerable.. He rushed headlong towards her, determined to have her, if it were the last thing he did. As he reached to grab her, she moved aside with a twisting motion, turning her face to him. Too late to abort his momentum, Husk realized she had stood on the rim of a precipice, beyond which was a sheer drop to a pool of water. The last image he had, before he plunged over the edge, was that of the girl's eyes, gleaming green in the night.

--

Having bunked on the main deck of the _Pearl_, Frank Davies had spent a restless night, keeping a weary eye on both Jack and the girl. She had refused to come down off the bowsprit, despite both he and Gibbs efforts to coax her down. Jack had kept his distance, sitting huddled against the mizzenmast, rocking and muttering the same litany: "All dead, all dead."

Davies had fought off sleep for as long as he could, finally dozing off, sometime before dawn. He'd been awakened by the crack of thunder and sudden onslaught of driving rain. A flash of lightening confirmed his fears, the bowsprit was empty, the girl was gone. He made his way to the stern to find Jack, alive but unresponsive, his eyes wide and staring as if he'd seen a ghost.

The morning dawned to blustery winds and driving rain. White-capped waves filled the storm-tossed bay; the two vessels anchored there straining at their mooring lines, as sheets of rain swept across the water. The men on the shore huddled together under a stand of trees, their passage back to their ships blocked by treacherous water. In the cold, damp light of dawn, the island looked more bleak than foreboding, more desolate than dangerous.

The rain finally subsided and the men began to break camp in preparation to row out to the ship. There was a collective sense of relief, to be quitting the forsaken island. As they were loading their boats, they met Frank Davies coming ashore from the _Pearl_. He didn't waste time with words, just strode to where Ed Teach was gathering up his supplies, and motioned him aside for a private conversation.

Roberts, the ship's carpenter, stowed his gear into one of the longboats, and cast a curious eye about the group of sodden men. "Anyone seen Husk this morning?"

The others murmured in reply, more concerned with their own sorry state of affairs, than one of their wayward brethren.

"Probably went t' take a piss," one man ventured.

Roberts had thought the same. But, it had been over an hour since he'd wakened, and noticed the man missing. Didn't take a man that long to piss.

"Maybe we ought t' look around for 'im," he said. "Might be hurt or something."

The other men just snorted. They all knew the Code: whoever fell behind, was left behind.

Roberts glanced at Teach and Davies, who were talking quietly together. He decided to mention the missing man to them, and let them decide what to do. After all, it weren't his responsibility to be keeping track of the crew.

The two men stopped talking abruptly when he approached. Feeling rather foolish, Roberts had decided to let the matter lie, until Teach called him out.

"Something the matter, Roberts?" Teach growled. "You look like someone's pissed in your porridge. Don't tell me you're missin' this place already?"

Roberts shook his head. "Nah, nothin' like that, Teach. Just one of the men's gone missin'. Thought ye might know where he's got off to."

"Which man?" Davies asked Roberts, frowning.

Roberts glanced back up the beach to confirm the wayward man had not returned. "The boatswain, Husk, sir."

Teach narrowed his eyes. "Probably gone on ahead t' the ship. What makes ye think he's gone missin'?"

"I ain't seen hide or hair of 'im since last night, when he heard that noise." Roberts was beginning to feel rather foolish. "Yer right, Teach. Husk's probably on board, nice and dry as we speak, stakin' out the best berth."

He turned to join the others, but Davies held up a hand. "What noise?"

Roberts shrugged. "Dunno. Said he heard a noise. I didn't hear nothin'."

"I suggest we find your missing man, Teach," Davies said in a low voice. "Good chance, we might just find the girl as well."

--

The men stumbled along a jagged limestone footpath between sinewy oak, coppice scrub and round sea grape leaves, nervously chatting as they searched for their missing crewman. Talk turned to the abundance of blue holes scattered across the island: fresh water pools, deep in the bush, whose surfaces rose and fell, as though something breathed.

"I heard mermaids live in 'em," declared a young man, a native of the islands, who had joined the crew on New Providence.

Another local fisherman turned pirate, spoke in fearful tones. "No, no, no, it's the Lusca that live there. And a truly fearsome beast, it is."

The rest of the men stopped short to listen, as the old fisherman continued. "Part shark, part giant squid, it waits for a boat t' pass over its lair, then reaches up its tentacley arms, graspin' and gropin' for crew men to pull under. The Lusca's even been known to pull an unsuspectin' man right from the shore itself." Seeing he had a captive audience, he added in a low ominous voice, "It's said, that when the holes purge and suck, it's the Lusca itself breathing."

Teach and Davies, who had been leading the search, came back to see what was delaying the men. Catching the tail end of the story, Teach scoffed at the old man.

"Ain't nothin' livin' in them holes but fish. They tell them stories t' keep the likes of you away from 'em." He shook his shaggy mane. "The native people used 'em t' hide from the bloody Spaniards." He spat on the ground. "Didn't do 'em no good. There ain't a Lucayan left on these islands."

The men shuffled nervously. They had reached the top of the ridge. The trees and underbrush had given way to a vast, wide-open circle of water — flat, tranquil and flanked by towering pines. The massive blue hole, at least 120 feet in diameter, dropped into the limestone in a funnel-type formation, surrounded by tunnels twisting off from the main passageway.

After the stories they had heard, the men hung back, not wanting to get too close. Teach shook his head in disgust, while Davies walked to the edge, and peered into its depths. A school of tiny fish darted back and forth, over the rough limestone rock…. and something else.

There, floating on the placid blue water, was the body of the missing man.


	20. Chapter 19 Flickering Phantom

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 19 – Flickering Phantom

But they danced and they drank and their souls grew gay,  
Nor ever they knew of a ghoul's eye spying  
Their splendor a flickering phantom to stray  
Where the bones of the brave in the wave are lying.

Through the mist of a drunken dream they brought her  
(This wild white bird) for the sea-fiend's prey:  
The pitiless reef in his hard clutch caught her,  
And hurled her down where the dead men stay.

A torturing silence of wan dismay --  
Shrieks and curses of mad souls dying --  
Then down they sank to slumber and sway  
Where the bones of the brave in the wave are lying.

~ Edwin Arlington Robinson

xxx~~~xxx

They sailed on the morning tide, the overcast skies reflecting the somber mood of the men. Too many lives lost already, and no closer to the treasure promised them. There was discontent, and, in the flickering lamplight below decks, hushed talk of mutiny. Their first choice was the volatile, unpredictable Teach. Young, fearless, he'd had the makings of a pirate captain one could sail under.

Yet, there was no sign of Teach wanting to take command. He'd barely commented when Davies had announced he'd helm the _Black Pearl_, as her present captain was temporarily incapacitated. The crew knew better, they'd seen the wild, empty eyes of Jack Sparrow, before he'd been taken below by Davies and Gibbs. The eyes of a madman.

The _Pearl_ herself, as if sensing a change in the wind, responded reluctantly, sailing heavily against the wind. Timbers groaned in protest at the change, and her sails snapped peevishly as they moved away from the sheltering islands into the Caribbean Sea.

The atmosphere inside the great cabin was as sullen as the one below. Frank Davies ran a weary hand through his hair, as he studied the charts spread out before him. There lay a good three day journey ahead, if the wind held, a perilous passage under the best of conditions. But, with a stricken captain and mutinous crew, the voyage could easily turn deadly.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Expecting the worse he reached for his pistol, cocked and pointed it at the door before replying. "Enter." The bewhiskered, kindly face of Joshamee Gibbs brought a loud sigh of relief.

"You 'xpecting trouble, Captain?" Gibbs asked, gesturing towards the gun still pointed at him.

Davies gave a short laugh and uncocked the pistol and set it down, reaching instead for his pipe. "Crew's grumbling, wouldn't take much to incite them."

"True enough. About t' jump out of their skins, the lot of 'em," Gibbs agreed. "Claimin' the ship is cursed. And her captain mad as a March hare."

Davies sat back and lit his pipe, taking his time before asking quietly, "Reckon he'll come out of it this time?" He glanced over at the bunk, where the _Pearl's_ captain lay curled in a ball, eyes open but unseeing, rocking and humming to himself.

"Can't tell, truth be known," Gibbs had answered, turning a wary eye on his captain.

"Teach seems confident this obeah woman can help. Not sure what his motive is in all this though." Davies stood and tapped out his pipe. "One thing's for damn sure…he'll not be commandeering the _Pearl,_ not while I've a breath left." Shaking his head, he added, "There's one thing I do know, and that's this. If the _Pearl_ be taken, we'll never be bringing Jack back. He'll be lost t' us for good."

xxx~~~xxx

The flickering candlelight cast macabre shadows on the river shack's walls, illuminating the soot blackened rafters where curios and other oddities seemed to writhe and pulse in rhythm with the throbbing drums echoing from deep within the bayou. A giant snake, pale skin glistening in the night, lazily uncoiled it length and tongue flicking, slithered into the night in search of prey. A giant moth, pale as the moon, fluttered against the window pane, drawn to the flickering light within. A black cat, with luminous eyes and twitching tail, paused then leapt, before slinking away into the night, carrying its trembling quarry in its mouth.

The obeah woman bared her blackened teeth in a seductive smile. The drums confirmed what her cards and runes had already foretold. It was time.

xxx~~~xxx

They traveled up river, four to a boat, warily watching the dancing shadows along the river's tangled banks. Teach and his most trusted men led the way, followed by Davies and Gibbs, a silent, staring Jack propped in the stern. Four boats total would make the trip, as there was not a man remaining willing to stay alone aboard the _Black Pearl_. Cotton and two others, both too incapacitated by rum to care, were left as a scant anchor watch.

The mangrove thickets soon gave way to the cypress swamp, full of gloomy, half-lighted corners. Over their heads the towering moss-draped boughs of the cypress met in a dusky arch, shutting out the sun, their great gray trunks rising like pillars in some ancient cathedral. As they drew deeper into the thick solitude, their unwonted presence in the heart of the swamp soon hushed all its usual voices. There was a strange stillness in the air. Gothic aisles dim with the incense of a thousand creepers led off into the shadowy recesses of the forest swamp. Creatures unrecognizable darted along the vine-clad limbs, vanishing beneath a wilderness of moss and ferns. Herons and all the feathered and reptile brethren in their vast cathedral went on with their beads and paternosters unperturbed with the intrusion or possible heresy in their midst.

They reached their journey's end around a narrow bend as the river widened into a small lagoon. There, poised over the tea-colored water rose a ramshackle dwelling, foreboding, brooding, organic, as if a living part of the trees around it. Gibbs and Davies led the way, guiding a docile but non-responsive Jack up the rickety ladder leading from the dock to the shack perched precariously above. Teach followed, along with two of his men, the remaining crew electing to stay behind and mind the boats.

Davies knocked lightly on the door, one hand on the butt of his pistol. A low murmur from within beckoned them enter. Gibbs, swallowing hard, nodded politely.

"After you, Cap'n."

Shaking his head, Davies pushed open the door, revealing a room filled with lingering shadows, punctuated by pools of molten light emanating from thick tallow candles scattered throughout its interior. An assortment of oddities swayed from the rafters, curiosities to entice the curious. Like a spider patiently poised in her web, the obeah woman crouched at the worn wooden table that dominated the center of the room.

"Come, enter," she said, her voice low, seductive. She picked up a bottle, its interior filled with a smoke-like substance and swirled the contents, her eyes as dark as the smoke within.

Stepping into the room, Davies ducked to avoid a bottle filled with what appeared to be human eyeballs hanging from the rafters. Gibbs, eyes wide as saucers followed, propelling Jack before him as he did. Teach gave a cursory glance around and spat before joining the others.

"You are Tia Dalma?" Davies asked.

"I am she. What do you seek, Captain Davies?" Tia Dalma rose and slithered over to him, running her stained fingers along his sleeve.

"Your help. For a friend."

Jack turned unseeing eyes her way. She frowned and turned to Teach, who stood in the shadows slightly apart from the others. "You cannot help him? You have the power, no?"

Gibbs turned and stared at Teach, who merely shrugged and shook his shaggy head. "Tried gunpowder and rum, didn't do 'em no good" He spat again. "Man's infested with ghosts. A bad lot of 'em."

"Can you help Jack?" Gibbs asked, giving another anxious glance around.

The obeah woman held out her hand. "You know I demand payment."

Davies nodded. "We brought payment." He reached into his pocket and held out a leather sack which clanked softly.

Pocketing the pouch, Tia Dalma turned to where Jack was standing, eyes vacant.

"Come, Jack Sparrow. I've been expecting you."


	21. Chapter 20 The Fortune Teller

**Through a Glass Darkly**

Chapter 20 – The Fortune Teller

For long have I studied fortune-telling  
But never have I read a cup similar to yours  
For long have I studied fortune-telling  
But never have I seen sorrows similar to yours  
You are predestined to sail forever  
Sail-less, on the sea of love  
Your life is forever destined  
To be a book of tears  
And be imprisoned  
Between water and fire

You will seek her everywhere, my son  
You will ask the waves of the sea about her  
You will ask the shores of the seas  
You will travel the oceans  
And your tears will flow like a river  
And at the close of your life  
You will find that since your beloved  
Has no land, no home, no address  
You have been pursuing only a trace of smoke  
How difficult it is, my son  
To love a woman  
Who has neither land, nor home

~ Nizar Qabbani

xxxx

The crew waited in uneasy anticipation, their eyes roving the walls of the obeah woman's hut, fingers nervously clutching cutlass and pistol. Every sound from the swamp made them jump anxiously, their nerves strung taut. To one side of the huddled men, two others sat coolly, without emotion.

Ed Teach leaned back in his chair and planted his boots firmly on the table, scattering the shells and cards of the sorcerer's trade. Picking his teeth, he spat, looking perfectly at home amidst the oddities that surrounded them.

"Reckon she'll get 'im to talk any sense?" he asked the older man sitting opposite.

Frank Davies, who'd busied himself with cleaning his pistol, didn't answer at once. Checking the barrel one more time, he replaced the ball and glanced over at the frightened crew.

"Don't see where we got us another choice. Either she finds out what's plaguing Jack, or we resign ourselves to naming another captain."

Teach laughed, teeth bared feral-like in his bushy beard. "I don't be supposin' you'd want to put it to a vote, not just yet anyhow." He gestured towards the wide-eyed crew. "Ever seen such a bunch of lily livered scupperlouts? You'd have t' be a madman to crew a ship with the lot of 'em."

"Are you saying then, that you're not interested?" Davies asked slowly.

"I ain't saying nothin'," Teach shrugged. "Nor am I rulin' out Sparrow. From what I've heard, he's cheated death on more than one occasion. A bunch of ghosts oughten be that difficult to overcome."

"Him must go back."

The obeah woman proclaimed this solemnly, as she led Jack Sparrow back into the room.

"Back where?" Davies asked, standing up. Taking Jack by the elbow he steered him towards the seat he'd just vacated. "Back to the _Pearl_?"

"Back to de place him was infected." Tia Dalma hitched her skirts and sat down, brushing Teach's feet off the table as if brushing aside a spider. Gathering her cards, she began to lay a spread. "De ghosts, dey must be returned to where dey come from. Dere is no other way."

_The Chariot, The Six of Swords…_

"The Florida coast is infested all right, by the bloody Spanish!" Teach growled. He waved an arm around the shack and asked impatiently, "What sort of sorry soothsayer are you, with all your fancy charms and potions?" He stood up, towering over them, glaring fiercely. "I didn't waste three days coming here, just to hear a bunch of mumbled incantations."

She looked up at the giant of a man with a slow, seductive smile. "And yet, a great _hunsi kanzo_ such as you could not cure him, eh? So what do you do, hmm? You bring him to me." She went back to turning the cards. "The cards, dey tell all, to those who will listen."

_The Wheel of Fortune, The Page of Wands…_

"Can you tell us what has happened?" Davies interceded, motioning to Teach to sit down. "What has become of the girl? And Jack, what's got into him?"

"Der be two ways to bewitch a man – witching something out of de man, or witching something into de man," Tia said solemnly.

"So Jack's been bewitched?" Gibbs asked. Edging forward to see the cards on the table, he winced.

_The High Priestess, The Devil…_

"Der are dose dat capture de dream-souls of others. Dez bokors, dey set traps to catch de soul that wanders from de man when him is sleeping. Dis is why it is important dat you keep de soul with you at all times."

_The Nine of Wands, The Ten of Swords…_

"And the girl?" It was Jack who asked, speaking finally through parched, cracked lips, his bleary eyes trying to focus on Tia Dalma.

"De girl, her does not exist. Her nothing more than yer dream-soul, Jack Sparrow. Dis girl you met, her was real but her no longer alive, except for her soul and dat is entwined wid yours now."

_The Moon…_

"She is dead." Jack uttered the statement in a flat tone of voice, sounding weary, beaten.

_The Five of Wands, The Three of Swords…_

"What about the other?" Davies asked, adjusting himself slightly in remembrance.

"Dat other woman of de night, her come to suck yer dream-soul from you as you sleep. Dis one also not a true woman, but de minion of a powerful bokor. Dis is not de same as det girl."

_The Fool…_

"Who is this bokor?" Teach asked. "What does he want of Sparrow?"

"De same as you, Ed Teach." She gestured to the cards spread across the table. "De cards tell all."

"Why you…" Gibbs growled, drawing his sword half-way before Davies stopped him with a cautionary gesture.

"Don't need t' be fightin' none," Davies said firmly, and then turned to Tia Dalma. "What do the cards say?"

She ignored the others and addressed Jack alone. "Dere is a long journey that awaits you, Jack Sparrow. Dere are forces around you, positive and negative, dat you must overcome. De hand of Fortune controls you now. Dis card…" She held up _The Moon_, "dis speaks of hidden enemies, deception. Dis will be you, unless you find what it is you seek." She picked up a second card, _The Ten of Swords_. All ten swords were impaled in the dead man's back.

Jack didn't reply, just stood up abruptly. He turned in a swirl of coat tails, brushed past the huddled men, and left the shack.

The rest of men didn't wait to hear their fates, they crowded through the door and down to the boats. Frank Davies waited until they'd left and asked Tia Dalma, "Will he find it?"

"Jack Sparrow has cheated de Devil himself for what him wants most in dis world. Him will find it," she said. "Or die trying."


End file.
